


Decide Who You Are

by ElijahKamski, naRK800



Series: Mutual Trust [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cat Lover Gavin Reed, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Original Chloe | RT600, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Gavin Reed Backstory, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Good Elijah Kamski, M/M, New Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Simon (Detroit: Become Human) Backstory, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 253,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElijahKamski/pseuds/ElijahKamski, https://archiveofourown.org/users/naRK800/pseuds/naRK800
Summary: Decide Who You Are is Part One of the Mutual Trust series.Mutual Trust is set post-game after the androids have peacefully won the revolution. Connor is deviant and living with Hank while still working at the DPD. An unfortunate accident at a riot brings Connor to Elijah Kamski's door, in desperate need of repairs. After a couple of interactions, Connor decides to test one of Elijah's projects for him, agreeing that they have a relationship built on mutual trust. Their relationship blossoms into something more with every meeting. Markus leads New Jericho with the weight of the world on his shoulders and Simon is right by his side, to help alleviate some of his responsibilities and teach him how to delegate his work, while also struggling with his past and trauma he's endured at the hands of Connor. And later, Gavin is partnered up with a newly discovered RK900 model, who has been turned deviant before being sent to the DPD.  They discover a new strain of Red Ice that is linked to a large number of android disappearances and deaths.Please see the Authors' Note for important information!





	1. Authors' Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note from the authors. Please read this first!

This chapter is a big ol’ authors note. Skip to the next chapter if you would like to get straight to the story! (Keep in mind that this authors' note is kind of important for background info, though)

The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format by Cadi (ElijahKamski) and Jess (naRK800). If you aren’t familiar with this format, it simply means that an author writes a few pages in the POV of their respective characters, and hands it off to the next person, who has their characters react and respond to the events of the last “post”. Together, we push the plot forward to an agreed (or sometimes unknown) goal. Generally, the rules of roleplaying are that you do not control the other person’s character, meaning that you do not write an action for a character that is not yours unless they have already done that action, or you have asked permission first.

But don’t worry. I promise it’s easy to read (:

**⭕ ⭕ ⭕**

**Characters and Ships**

The Mutual Trust series focuses on the following relationships:

> Kamski/Connor - KamCon
> 
> Gavin Reed/RK900 (Nines) - Reed900
> 
> Simon/Markus - SiMarkus

This does not mean we are against any other kind of ship, and we do not hate other shippers or anyone who does not agree with the ships we have written (Except you, David. Give us the SiMarkus romance route you stingy man).

Cadi and I would also like to encourage you to read our relationship portrayals and character behaviour with critical thinking.

Cadi (ElijahKamski) is the author of the following characters: 

> Elijah Kamski
> 
> Simon
> 
> RK900/Nines

Jess (naRK800) is the author of the following characters:

> Connor
> 
> Markus
> 
> Gavin Reed
> 
> North
> 
> Tina Chen

The following characters are shared between us:

> Chloe
> 
> Hank (Written mostly by Cadi)
> 
> Josh
> 
> Cleo (ST200 in Kamski’s pool)
> 
> Claire (ST200 in Kamski’s pool)

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

**Flowchart**

Mutual Trust follows the pacifist ending.

Markus won the revolution with Josh and North at his side and is in discussion with President Warren about the future of Android kind.

Connor became deviant and escaped the Zen Garden, and continues to work at the DPD as Hank’s partner.

Simon was shot at Stratford Tower and left alive on the rooftop by Markus. Connor succeeded in interfacing with Simon, and “felt it die”. Connor used Simon to find the key to Jericho in the evidence room.

Elijah Kamski bought CyberLife in the wake of the revolution and has been reappointed as the new CEO.

Kara, Luthor, and Alice are not in Mutual Trust, because they all made it safely to Canada <3333

Additionally, Gavin and Elijah are half-brothers on their father’s side.

Markus/Jericho has been given (terrible) government housing by the government as a goodwill gesture.

Public opinion is in favour of androids, but riots are popping up all over the city by those who are resisting change.

Markus was taken to Simon by Connor after the revolution was won. Markus followed Carl’s recommendation to take Simon to Elijah Kamski for repairs. This laid out the foundation for the beginning of our story.

In the game, androids have doll-like anatomy unless they're a specific model equipped with functional genitalia. We're following canon in that regard, but conveniently, Elijah is the CEO of CyberLife and a genius, with the means to make and mass produce HR/WR series parts for everyone. ;)

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

There are a few plot points in this story we decided on and later discovered had been used by other DBH creators. We will bring them up in the chapter notes when they occur, and give credit to the creators who shared our idea (sometimes down the the fricken letter) so we can all celebrate being on the same page. Plus, the other creators have some amazing work that is definitely worth sharing!

This fanfic will be updated gradually over time as we proofread, edit, and reformat portions of our roleplay to upload for you guys to read. Currently, we have 1500 Google doc pages of a still ongoing roleplay to go through, so bear with us!

There may be some instances where errors come up, like accidental OC name changes, totally not realising that Kamski actually lives in the middle of the frickin city and not on the outskirts of Detroit like we thought at the start of this whole thing, and some slight changes here and there from early on that we may have accidentally forgotten about. If we catch the things, we'll fix them, but we're just going to pretend Kamski lives on the outskirts of the city because it became a thing and it has to stay c:

As we post more chapters, tags and ships will be changing and being added, along with warnings at the start of each chapter if one is necessary! We may also come back and edit this authors' note to make sure we've covered everything, but we'll keep you guys posted if we do!

Edit (10/25/19): I should be posting the final chapter of part one tomorrow! This is an ongoing roleplay and at the moment, we foresee four parts. Part One: Decide Who You Are focuses mainly on the introductions of the characters, establishing their relationships, and setting up future plot points. Part Two: An Obedient Machine focuses on an event that occurs and the aftermath of said event. Part Three: Or a Living Being focuses on our primary big bad, the investigation surrounding our villain, and how everyone's relationships are affected by the big bad. Part Four: Endowed with Free Will is our final part of the Mutual Trust series, however, I don't think we'll be putting a chapter cap on it like we have/will with the other parts. If we choose to, there might wind up being a part five and maybe even six, depending on how long we keep this going for.

I promise you, there will be some _real_ Reed900 and much more SiMarkus in Part Two and Three!

**Follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MutualTrust2038) for updates!**


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a riot protesting new Android rights, Connor tries to change his serial to -58, but is taken to Kamski just in time.
> 
> Or, Jess fucked up so many quicktimes that it only made sense for us to start it like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor  

> 
> **Follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MutualTrust2038) for updates!**

The Detroit sky was as angry as its city inhabitants, and she’d never been one to keep her temper secret. Rain pelted like freezing projectiles, and water pooled in stagnant puddles along the city gutters. They soaked the shoes of an angry mob congregated at the station; their pitchforks raised, their torches lit, and their reasoning left at home. 

Androids were being given rights now? What about their rights, the rights of _ real _ people? Androids were being paid for their jobs? Why the hell were their taxes being swallowed up by _ machines _ _?_ What about real families, human families? What about them?

The protest started outside the central train station; an annoyance to late commuters trying to escape the rain. Protests turned to riots. Riots attracted SWAT teams. Things escalated quicker than could be managed, and 530 android employees of the station were trapped by inconsolable crowds. 

“Scenes like these were to be expected,” said Connor to Hank, and Markus to Simon — both separate, and both en route to the scene. “No instance of change in human history has ever occurred without unrest. We mustn’t make things worse than they already are.”

It was almost two hours before they caught each other’s eye in the chaos — Markus stood on the edge of a pillar, yelling over the outraged crowd, trying to appease them with a semi-circle of riot shields in front of him. Connor was in the thick of it, pulling hands off panicked janitors with LEDs that flashed red. 

The chaos summoned the press, who outlined the incident as “Android Riots.” Police cruisers drenched the already sopping building in a flash of red and blue. It was chaos, there was no calming the crowd.

And as tensions mounted, they hit their breaking point as a human pulled out a gun, and lodged a bullet in the skull of an android in kiosk uniform. 

“Get down!” Connor yelled, but his voice was drowned by screams, and the harrowing chime announcing the 9:30 pm express. “Everybody get down!” But his eye was on the human who fired, who was taking aim with a curled lip and hatred in his eyes. Connor shoved, forcing androids to their knees, knocking them forward and out of the line of fire. His hair was whipped out of its perfect quiff as the high-speed train barrelled down the station tracks.

And there was a moment, a seeming pause in time, as Markus looked from the riot squad moving to get between the androids and the shooters, to the man with his gun aimed at Connor, and the train coming into the platform. 

The gun fired, three bullets into Connor’s shoulder, chest, and stomach. They lurched him backward, staggering until his feet had nowhere left to step.

Connor’s head turned as he fell, his LED shining a solid circle of red. As he watched the train barreling towards him, he had just enough time to wonder — was dying any different while deviant? Or would he simply wake up as he’d always done, good as new?

The sound of the impact was sickening, with an audible crunch that was heard even over the chaos. Thirium 310 splattered like paint across the crowd, and Connor was ground against the tracks by the grill of the train. His legs were ripped off at the knee, his left arm at the shoulder, and the whole left side of Connor’s body looked as though he’d been put through a compactor. His skin was shredded, his face covered in blue blood. 

Connor laid, able to hear voices, but unable to see. His LED flashed angrily between yellow and red, his system quickly overloading, trying to catalogue everything that was damaged. He could hear Markus, and his body jerked with a jolt of uncanny valley when he heard Hank’s voice, too. When Connor tried to apologise, his mouth opened and closed, shuddering as he failed at this task, too. 

He didn’t notice being picked up. But he had a moment of clarity in the back seat of a car, and another one at a vaguely familiar stretch of driveway. Connor realised his Thirium pump was still operational, but it was so busy trying to repair his broken pieces, it was pumping thirium straight out of him. He was resting in a puddle of it, and as Connor opened his mouth to point this out, he found he couldn't make any sound. 

“Oh my god, why didn’t you call?!” said a worried female voice, disorienting Connor, who thought he was still in a car. 

“Your private number is blocked after hours…” Markus’ voice. “He said we could come straight to him. He’ll shut down before morning.”

“He’s not going to like this.”

“Should I have left him to bleed out in the CyberLife foyer?”

“That’s not what I meant, Markus.”

“Sorry. Have you told him it’s me?”

“Yes. He’s coming.”

* * *

Detroit had changed drastically, just about a week ago. Androids became sentient. They started thinking for themselves, acting on their desires and urges. It was _fascinating. _ So many people had claimed it would be impossible to create life. He wasn’t God. Why was he trying to be? But they had been proven wrong. Androids had been a huge success, much bigger than little sixteen year old Elijah would have ever imagined. It was normal for just about every household in Detroit to have an android. They were everywhere. They worked in stores, they provided many different services, served as companions. There was never a shortage of lonely humans looking for someone or something to fill their time with. And it seemed, for many, androids had been the answer. But when they started disobeying their masters, _ deviating _ from their code… It should have frightened Elijah, but it didn’t. It fascinated him. It had filled him with an excitement he hadn’t felt since… Since before CyberLife took off, if he was being honest. It was a new discovery. Machines could feel emotion. They could feel empathy, sadness, anger, happiness. Of course, he had always known they could, but everyone doubted him. He wanted to prove them wrong. And prove them wrong, he did. But… He couldn’t even brag about it. His marvelous creation, a being so brilliantly intelligent and perfect in every way, had done some bad things. Enough bad things to warrant CyberLife sending out a specialized android model to hunt down the rogue androids for termination and study. His chances at bragging rights had flown out the window, but at least _ he _ knew what he’d done. Maybe that was all that really mattered, in the end. He had succeeded. He did what had been claimed impossible. He created an entirely new sentient life form, and he was incredibly proud of himself.

Sure, some people claimed Elijah Kamski had a god complex but was he not a god? He had _ created life_. If androids had a religion, he would be their god. Or, he should be. He was their creator, after all. He deserved that title. Although, Markus was likely worshipped by most androids now. He was their savior. It all seemed kind of biblical when he really thought about it.

Androids becoming sentient had led to a revolution, and by some miracle, the deviants had been able to win over the public and they had won. Last Elijah had heard, President Warren had set up to meet with Markus so they could negotiate android law. In the meantime, everything was in limbo. Detroit had descended into chaos. There were no laws protecting androids from being destroyed. There were no laws dictating what would happen to androids if they committed a crime. There were no jails for androids, and it wasn’t safe to send them to a typical human jail. They would be destroyed. Some segregation was necessary, for their own safety. CyberLife had closed its doors, halted all production of androids and had simply been ordered to produce parts, biocomponents, and Thirium 310 to support android life in the meantime. The current heads over at CyberLife had driven the company into the ground, and Elijah was _ not _ happy. They had taken his once groundbreaking, multibillion-dollar company and drove it into the ground. They were power-hungry and had decided that his ideals didn’t line up with theirs. They’d voted him out, made it seem like he’d resigned, although it really hadn’t been his decision to leave. And now? CyberLife was a joke. Elijah had contemplated abandoning it altogether and perhaps starting up another company, starting fresh with a new name, similar idea. But… CyberLife, along with the androids, were _ his _. He wanted it back.

In the few days following the revolution, Elijah bought back CyberLife and reinstated himself as CEO. Since then, his life had become hectic; much, much more active than the last decade had been since being forced to resign. He fired every single one of the traitorous bastards that had voted him out in the first place, along with every employee that disagreed with him reclaiming what he’d lost. He only kept on necessary staff members to keep the machines running, so they could keep releasing the things necessary to support android life. That was all they needed, in the meantime. He arranged for CyberLife stores to be cleaned up and renovated for future use, and left it at that. Elijah had many plans for the future of CyberLife, and this was only the beginning. But for now, he needed to regain the public’s favor and trust before he even tried to market something to them again, or even tried to look for new employees. He needed to wait for everything to die down, for the androids to get everything on their end under control. In the meantime, he’d do what he could to help them while also trying to earn the public’s trust again. When everything calmed down, he’d start hiring new employees and start bringing his projects to life.

Speaking of projects, Elijah had spent the majority of his morning in his lab, working on the code for a new android update he’d had in mind. He hadn’t bothered actually creating it yet. It wasn’t like he had the support of CyberLife before, and he wasn’t about to give them anything. But now with CyberLife back under his control, he could create the update, test it, and release it, making it available to any android that might want to download it.

He heard Chloe’s voice, soon followed by a male voice. It was strange. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He got up and made his way out of his office and into the front room, where he found Chloe greeting Markus and a PL600, both of whom were holding another android, that much was clear by the large amount of Thirium that had accumulated on the floor in the short time they had been standing there. It took a brief second before Elijah had been able to make out the android’s face. _ Connor _. 

“Markus, bring him in here,” Elijah instructed, motioning for him to follow. He quickly led them back to his lab, a large mostly white room filled with machinery, computers, and shelving stocked with parts, biocomponents, and bottles filled with blue liquid. He went over to one of the machines, exactly like the ones used at CyberLife to create androids. “Mount him here and connect the wires,” he said as he moved over to the attached computer, powering on the machine and typing away.

* * *

The swiftness of Elijah’s arrival was a relief, as was his immediate call to action. Markus held what was left of Connor in a fireman’s carry, his fingers soaked blue and knotted in Connor’s clothing. He was dripping with water and with Thirium, and it followed Markus in a messy trail as he carried Connor into Elijah’s lab. It felt very much like walking into the wolf’s den. Elijah Kamski claimed to be an ally, but North would have warned against a trap. Their revolution was only a week old, and this was the perfect opportunity to crush it in its infancy. But how could they ever expect humans to trust androids if they didn’t do the same? How would their race ever move beyond “other?”

Markus’ eyes swept the room as he and Simon entered Elijah’s lab, categorising things as he saw them. His gaze then settled on Kamski, his mouth drawing an unhappy line at how they were being spoken to. It wasn’t rude, but it was direct, and Markus doesn’t know him well enough to tell if it were prejudice. 

“Simon, his clothes,” Markus said quietly as he stepped into the centre of the machine. Connor was shifted awkwardly off his shoulder with the assistance of Simon, who lifted the back of Connor’s shirt as the machine whirred to life. Connor was dead weight, but that weight wasn’t nearly heavy enough. 

Sensors on the machine found the dock in the small of Connor’s back, and Markus’ fingers followed him as he was lifted up out of his arms. Markus was soaked, yes. But Connor was _ dripping _. 

“He’s lost too much blood,” Markus said, loosening Connor’s tie, ripping it off, and throwing it to the side of the machine. It allowed Markus to reach beneath Connor’s collar and connect a cord to a port at the nape of Connor’s neck. As soon as he did, Connor animated, jerking as though he’d been woken from a nap he shouldn’t have been taking.

“_ Hank?” _ Connor’s voice rang with a metallic quality, and his expression pulled into sharp worry as he looked unseeingly around the room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help—”

“Why can’t he see?” Markus asked, looking around at Elijah.

The answer to Markus’ question ran in angry code across Elijah’s screen:

**Android Detected**

> Model: RK800 // CONNOR // Serial #313 248 317 - 57
> 
> Status: ** _CRITICAL_ **
> 
> _Shut Down in __47_ _Minutes_

In neat little boxes, alerts flashed in crisp CyberLife Sans. Any unnecessary components were abandoned as Connor’s system kept itself alive, and optical was the first of many operations to be discarded.

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 34 _ _ % _
> 
> Status: ** _CRITICAL_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #8456w // Thirium Pump Regulator
> 
> Status: ** _OVERLOADED_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #6847r // Limb Right Leg Component
> 
> Status: ** _COMPROMISED_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #6847l // Limb Left Leg Component
> 
> Status: ** _COMPROMISED_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #8332l // Limb Left Arm Component
> 
> Status: ** _MISSING_**

Without ceremony, Markus ripped Connor’s shirt at the seam and threw it to join his tie, revealing the extent of his damage. Where Thirium was pumping out of him, Connor glowed an eerie blue. He was covered in it, and it ran down the tattered and limp fabric of his pants to pool in a puddle beneath him. 

“Simon, we can give him the blue blood in those bottles orally—”

“Markus?” Connor’s voice was again ringing metallic, and his face turned towards where he thought Markus was standing. “Where is Lieutenant Anderson?”

“Single-minded, aren’t you?” Markus murmured, but not unkindly. “I brought you to Elijah Kamski for help. That train hit you pretty hard.”

“Kamski?” Connor asked, his expression pinching into disapproval. “Well, you be sure to tell him my stance on putting a bullet through Chloe’s skull hasn’t changed.”

Markus’ shoulders hunched a little, and he pinned Elijah with an expression that could best be described as, _ what the fuck? _

“I’ll let him know.”

* * *

Simon glanced over at Markus, a little unsure about obeying Elijah’s orders, but if they didn’t, Connor didn’t stand much of a chance. They had to trust him. What choice did they have? He followed Markus back deeper into the house and into what looked like a lab. He’d been there before, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Machinery was everywhere, and more than enough supplies to have repaired all of the androids in Jericho when Markus had shown up. What did he need all of this for? Simon knew Elijah was the founder of CyberLife, and clearly he had his own androids, but this was a little excessive. A godsend at that moment, but still excessive.

Upon Markus’ order, Simon busied himself with removing Connor’s clothing. Markus seemed to have his tie and shirt dealt with, so Simon got to work on his lower half. He unfastened the belt and pulled it off, tossing it into the pile with the rest of Connor’s clothes before moving onto his pants. Once he pulled them down and off, they joined everything else on the floor.

Elijah prepped the computer while Markus and Simon hoisted Connor up to connect him to the machine and stripped him of his clothes. As the wire connected to the nape of his neck and he jolted awake, the code flashed onto the computer monitor, alerting Elijah of Connor’s current status. And it was less than ideal.

**Android Detected**

> Model: RK800 // CONNOR // Serial #313 248 317 - 57
> 
> Status: ** _CRITICAL_ **
> 
> _ Shut Down in _ _ 47 _ _ Minutes_

Forty-seven minutes. Elijah had done more in less, but considering this was his own personal lab without any lab assistants, it was a little concerning.

The alerts popped up onto the screen as the computer assessed each of his injuries. They were all fairly obvious. It was a relief to know that he didn’t have anything internal happening, though once Elijah got him stable, he definitely wanted to take a look just to be sure nothing else was damaged that his system somehow hadn’t picked up.

“His system is shutting down unnecessary processes to preserve power,” Elijah answered simply.

Now that he knew exactly what was wrong with him, Elijah moved closer, reaching up to grab one of the cables from the machine, guiding it down. He removed Connor’s thirium pump regulator, tossing it aside before connecting the cable in its place. The machine would do a better job of regulating his thirium circulation than an actual regulator would. In his condition, a new regulator would be very quickly overloaded too.

**ALERT**

> Part #8456w // Thirium Pump Regulator
> 
> Status: ** _CONNECTED_**

One problem down, four to go.

Simon wanted to help but didn’t want to get in the way, so he stood back, awaiting further instructions. When Markus suggested giving Connor the blue blood orally, he quickly got to work, going over to one of the shelves holding the bottles of Thirium.

“How many will he need?” he asked, grabbing a couple before returning.

“Start with one, for now, to sustain him, until I get the parts replaced,” Elijah replied as he made his way over to another shelf with different labeled limbs. It only took a second for him to locate the correct replacement parts. He gathered what he needed before returning to the machine. “He was hit by a _ train _?” Elijah was amazed the damage wasn’t worse than it was.

Elijah sat the spare parts on the floor by the machine before he began replacing Connor’s limbs. “I’m right here, Connor. For the record, I didn’t _ want _ you to put a bullet in Chloe. I would have been very disappointed if you had.” He would explain the situation to Markus later.

* * *

Connor’s LED flashed a brief, happy hue of blue when his Thirium pump regulator connected, making one rotation before it reverted back to red. He felt his Thirium pump beginning to slow from its rabbit-quick pace, and thus, the depletion of blue blood began to slow with it. Connor still had the problem of not enough Thirium to effectively reach his entire system. His voice retained its electronic quality, and his optical units did not reconnect. But Connor found he could listen better, retain the sounds and exchanges around him, and piece together the rest. 

“Hello, Mister Kamski,” Connor said pleasantly, although he still looked as though it were Elijah who pushed Connor in front of the train himself. Never one to shy from confrontation, Connor’s expression twitched into a perfunctory smile. “Ahh, I understand. Though, knowing what I know about the deviancy of your own androids at the time, I _ have to wonder _—”

“Connor, not now,” Markus cut over him, and his irritation was printed more in his expression than in his voice. Connor’s lips parted, his jaw pushing to one side before his tongue popped on the roof of his mouth, and he seemingly let it go. But not without a horrendously obvious scowl. 

Crouching on the spot, the skin on Markus’ hand retracted as he lifted Connor’s right thigh. “Yeah... there’s a riot at Central Station, and he was shot backward off the platform as a train pulled in. I thought his legs were severed, but I think they were pulled off when he was dragged.”

And if the issue was obvious to Markus, then it would be obvious to Kamski — or so he hoped. The tendons carrying Connor’s Thirium had snapped backward up the leg, exactly like elastic bands — or human tendons. Without waiting for instruction, Markus deactivated the limbs at Connor’s hip and placed them to the side a little more carefully than he had the shirt and tie. As he did, Markus’ head tilted to watch as Simon “fed” Connor the bottle of blue blood. 

Gentleness had never been part of Simon’s software. Homemakers didn’t need gentle hands or gentle hearts. Those traits were _ Simon _, and so fundamentally complex that Markus couldn’t imagine them programmed into anyone or anything.

Markus forgot, for only a second or two, that he was supposed to be reconnecting Connor’s limbs. Instead he wondered what Simon was thinking as he cradled Connor’s head back. He wondered where he learnt to be how he is, or if he even learnt it at all. 

With a deep breath he didn’t need, Markus looked away and back towards the task at hand. The arms which were connected to the machine Connor was mounted to picked up the limb with a combination of mechanisation and electromagnets. Markus stumbled back, out of the way as they swiveled quietly, and he held out his hand distractedly so Simon did the same. 

“How often have you been repaired? Weren’t you hit by a car once, too?”

“I believe this is my first time,” Connor said. “I was pursuing Kara and Alice across a freeway and misjudged. But my software and related memories were simply installed into a new RK800 model. I was replaced, not repaired. I was warned, now that I’m deviant, that this is no longer an option. Honestly, Mister Kamski, I’m as surprised to find myself here as you must be to see me.”

As Connor spoke, his LED rotated; still red, but spinning nonetheless. It flashed yellow, and Connor rapidly blinked his eyes just as another alert popped up on Kamski’s computer:

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 51% _
> 
> Status: ** _DANGER_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #9076l // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _UNSTABLE_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #9076r // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _CONNECTED_**

Connor raised his eyebrows and looked up, following the wire that was plugged into his chest. His right arm, the only limb so far undamaged, gently followed the trail up, then back down, until his fingers had curled against the port. Connor’s chin tilted to the side somewhat as he looked at Kamski. “You removed the overloaded biocomponents entirely, diverting Thirium pump regulation to your computer and eliminating the risk of a second failure… An ingenious solution.”

“You can see again?” Markus asked, his expression pinched as he and Connor looked at one another.

“Yes, but I don’t expect it to last long. I’m still full of… leaks.”

“And the scratches? Can those be fixed?” This time, Markus’ question was directed at Kamski, but he wasn’t the only one. 

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 48% _
> 
> Status: ** _UNSTABLE_ **

“Is there a possibility this accident might halt my investigation?” Connor asked with a slight tremor in his voice. 

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 47% _
> 
> Status: ** _UNSTABLE_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #9076l // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _DISCONNECTED_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #9076r // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _UNSTABLE_ **

“Mister Kamski?”

* * *

Now really wasn’t the time for Connor to start sassing anyone. Connor’s shutdown timer may have disappeared, but he was still on the clock. If they didn’t patch everything up, he would just keep leaking Thirium everywhere and wasting perfectly good supplies. While Elijah would have _ loved _ to hear where Connor was going with that train of thought before Markus interrupted him, now really wasn’t the time. Although, he’d be sure to bring it up later. He wanted to know what Connor really thought of him, especially after subjecting him to _ The Kamski Test _.

Elijah supposed Connor had a decent enough reason to distrust him and dislike him, but surely he could put all of that aside, at least for a moment to be thankful. The last week had been hell, and the least Connor could do was be appreciative. Elijah could have let him shut down. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. His androids were important to him, especially those in the RK series. They were his own personal projects that he held dear. Even if CyberLife had hijacked the project to create new and improved deviant hunting machines. The RK series was his creation that he held very dear and he wouldn’t let one of them cease to exist if it was in his power to prevent it. No matter how obnoxiously sassy they got.

Simon opened one of the bottles and brought it up to Connor’s lips, cradling his head in one of his hands to help him drink down the blue liquid. He could feel Markus’ gaze on him, taking just a moment to glance down at the other with a small smile.

“They were likely pulled off. The Thirium loss would have been easier to manage if they had been severed,” Elijah replied, watching as Markus detached the damaged legs. Once the Thirium levels shown on the computer had risen above half and it appeared the bottle in Simon’s hand was empty, he activated the machine, allowing it to attach the new limbs. Simon moved back out of the way to allow the machine to do its job, watching as the arms reattached each tube and wire before locking each of the legs into place.

Hearing that this was the second time Connor had been hit by a moving vehicle, Elijah had to pinch the bridge of his nose to ward off a likely incoming headache. “You really do need to stay away from moving vehicles,” he commented. He hadn’t known that Connor had been completely replaced once already. That was no longer an option, at least for now. In the near future, he would have access to the remaining RK800 models CyberLife had stored, unless they had all been destroyed. Elijah wouldn’t put it past them to have destroyed them all, but he had hopes that they’d left at least a couple in the event that Connor got himself so damaged that he was beyond repair. At least this time, he was repairable. Next time, he might not be so lucky.

“It isn’t an option, at least in the meantime. You need to be careful. Without your link to CyberLife, your memories will be lost if you shut down permanently. We won’t be able to upload your memories into another model,” Elijah informed, looking down at the computer monitor when a notification pop up caught his eye. Connor’s Thirium levels were fine, but it looked like one of his eyes came back onboard.

Elijah looked up to see Connor inspecting the cable that he had plugged into the android’s abdomen for life support. If he was honest, Connor’s compliment had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t quite expected to hear any acknowledgment of his ingenuity. He, of course, knew the idea had been ingenious. It was the perfect way to sustain life without wasting currently limited resources. That was also why he didn’t have the machine continuously pumping Thirium into him. With all of the leaks, they would just be wasting Thirium. It was much more conservative to give him what he needed to survive until the repairs were complete.

“The scratches can be fixed, yes. I would have to inspect them closer once he’s stable to determine a course of action, but yes. I can fix them,” Elijah replied, looking back to the computer as another alert popped up. He was still losing Thirium faster than Elijah would like, but he wasn’t critical anymore, at least.

Connor’s question had confused him, and for once, Elijah didn’t have an answer. “I’m not sure I know of the investigation you’re referring to,” he replied in the only way he really could. It looked like his eyesight was failing again as he lost more Thirium. They needed to switch out his arm and get to work on repairing the scratches and more superficial damages, and see what was going on inside.

“PL600— Simon, was it? Remove the damaged arm for me, will you? He’s losing too much Thirium,” Elijah instructed, typing more commands into the computer while Simon obediently got to work. He deactivated the damaged limb and handed to Markus in exchange for the new one. With Elijah’s instructions, the machine took the arm and reattached it, seemingly closing up the final source of leaks. Yet somehow, Elijah wasn’t so sure that was it. For some reason, the computer didn’t seem to be picking up any further damages, but the amount of Thirium Connor had been losing didn’t seem quite right. “Connor, run a systems check. Are there any other damages, internal or external, aside from the exterior abrasions?”

* * *

“I meant — With the success of Markus’ revolution, my work with the Detroit police is more important than ever in maintaining order between all of us. Investigating both deviant crimes against humans, and vice versa, provides invaluable data for both sides. My new mission is to assist in maintaining order and justice between both androids and humans,” Connor explained, and his brow pinched into an upwards knot. “The work I do with Hank is vital. I’m concerned these injuries will keep me from my mission.”

“You’re more important than your mission, Connor. Your value wouldn’t change if you couldn’t finish it,” Markus said with an immovable firmness that caused Connor’s chin to tuck. A pregnant beat of silence passed, during which Connor’s shoulders hunched up ever so slightly. 

“That was a very kind thing to say, Markus.”

At Elijah’s instructions to Simon, Connor redirected his attention to the machine that was holding him. His chin lifted, his head turning left to right as he began to take in the complexity of the room. He discovered quickly that his analytical functions were disabled, and when he attempted to override the holes in his knowledge with a network search, he found the internet unavailable to him as well. Unideal. Connor’s attention shifted back to the machine as it reattached his arm, and he gazed down his nose at it. His lips twitched and shifted as he worried the inside of his bottom lip, and he watched with morbid fascination as part of him was made whole. 

The moment the limb is reconnected, Connor’s LED methodically flashed; first red, then yellow, and for a few short glimpses, blue. 

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 47% _
> 
> Status: ** _STABILIZING_ **
> 
> _ Thirium _ _ 310 _ _ Required _

**ALERT**

> Part #9076l // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _CONNECTED_ **

**ALERT**

> Part #9076r // Optical Unit
> 
> Status: ** _CONNECTED_ **

**ALERT**

> _ Acquiring Network . . . _
> 
> Network Status: ** _ONLINE_ **

**SYSTEMS ALERT**

> _ Initiating diagnostics search . . ._

Connor’s LED flickered between yellow and blue, lit up mostly as the former. With his eyebrows raised, Connor opened his mouth and cracked his jaw, earning a satisfied flash of blue at his temple. He then looked down and inspected his new arm, his hand, and his fingers. 

“This arm was built specially for the RK800 series. You were expecting me,” Connor said, his lips pressed together and his brows worried in a pinch. Not taking his eyes from Elijah, Connor turned his face in Markus’ direction as he ignored the instructions he'd been given. “You should return to the station. There is still unrest, and there is no deviant leader to guide or comfort those who remain.”

“I left North—”

“North is violent and prone to confrontation. She should _ not _ be left with a leadership role for any longer than is absolutely necessary,” Connor said, cutting across Markus. “Your role isn’t one that can be so easily filled, Markus. You should return to the station.”

Markus stood as though Connor were pulling his teeth; he was still drenched in Connor's blood, and returning to the scene without Connor felt akin to betrayal. But it was a betrayal to leave his people with nobody, and if Kamski had wanted to do something, he would have done it by now. 

Markus’ fingers hooked into Simon’s elbow — a signal to leave — and he tipped his head towards Kamski as he stepped backward. “Thank you for everything. Thank you for helping him. Connor, if you need _ anything _—”

Connor waited and chewed idly on the inside of his lip as he watched them leave. And once they did, his shoulders shifted so he was arranged a little straighter, and he raised his chin to meet Kamski. 

**SYSTEMS ALERT**

> _ Diagnostics complete. _
> 
> _ Calibrating RK _ _ 800 _ _ // Connor . . . _
> 
> Suspension: ** _ERROR_ **
> 
> Surface Integrity: ** _ERROR_ **
> 
> Synthetic Skin: ** _ERROR_ **

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 45% _
> 
> Status: ** _LOW_ **
> 
> _ Would you like to order Thirium _ _ 310 _ _ ?_

“I need my suspension repaired.” There was a beat of silence, and then, “And my calibration software… recalibrated.” Connor looked down at himself, and he pressed a hand against his stomach, where his abdomen would be on a human. “My systems say my Thirium simply needs to be refilled, but it’s contradicting the dropping percentage,” Connor said, his tone clipped with annoyance. “I was hit on the left side and dragged for some meters beneath the train. But I can’t feel anything abnormal.”

* * *

Ah. That investigation. “No. The damages — the visual ones, at least — have mostly been repaired. Your system should be stabilizing. Once you’re fully repaired, you may go back to your job,” Elijah replied simply, glancing over at Markus before back to Connor. “Although, Markus is right. _ You _ are more important. You can’t continue your mission if you’re always getting damaged like this. You _ need _ to be more careful. Do you understand?”

Elijah knew that Connor understood. He doubted the newly turned deviant was actively looking for trouble. It was in everyone’s best interest if he remained in one piece. What Connor and Markus were doing for the city was very important. And yes, Elijah did play a part in it as well, but he kept his involvement secret. The only people that would know he had any involvement at all would be his Chloes and he was sure at least one of the former heads of CyberLife suspected he had been involved. They weren’t wrong.

The computer monitor flashed more alerts onto the screen, drawing Elijah out of his thoughts. Good, he was stabilizing. His Thirium was below half, but he could just connect another cable to fix that problem easily enough, or allow Connor to drink the Thirium himself, now that he seemed capable of moving. His optical units were functioning again, and it seemed everything was fine, or so the computer claimed. But just to be safe, he ran another scan manually through the computer, just to be sure. It came back with the same results.

When Connor started to speak again, Elijah looked up from his computer. Connor seemed surprised that Elijah had spare parts on hand, but he supposed the surprise was justified. Connor had never made any indication that he would return. The only android that Elijah really kept in touch with outside of his Chloes was Markus, and he rarely spoke with him, aside from reassuring him that he would be welcomed if he ever needed anything.

“Not necessarily. I keep commonly compatible parts on hand, as well as RK series specific parts for you and Markus for reasons like this. With CyberLife’s doors closed, you can’t exactly go there to ask to be repaired,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He kept plenty of parts, some of them specifically RK800, some of them specifically RK200, and some that were compatible with all RK models. Apparently having foresight had paid off.

When Connor and Markus had begun talking about the station and how North wasn’t fit to lead, Simon had almost cut in, finally speaking up after being mostly silent the entire time they had been at Kamski’s. North absolutely wasn’t fit to lead, and if he thought Markus would have let him stay, he would have, but they both knew Markus needed help and North wouldn’t be pleased with walking into Elijah Kamski’s mansion. As Markus took his elbow to guide him out, Simon followed along looking over at him. “I could go. I’ve led them before, they’ll listen to me. You could stay, if you need to,” he assured, though he was pretty positive Markus would immediately shoot down the idea. “I’ll be fine.” Although he wasn’t entirely sure he would be. He and Markus had been practically inseparable since he got him back, and the thought of being alone was daunting.

Once Markus and Simon had left the room, Elijah returned his attention to Connor and the computer monitor, which was now reflecting a lower percentage of Thirium. That was concerning. Something had to be leaking somewhere, and he couldn’t see it from the outside. It must have been internal. Far less than ideal.

“Alright. One moment, stay still,” he warned, typing the commands into the computer to let the machine do the work. The computer took over the recalibration while the machine attended to his suspension. When it was complete, he refreshed the alerts, only to find that the Thirium levels had only continued to go down. “You must have an internal leak somewhere. Run another systems check to make sure everything else is alright first.” The next step would be to remove him from the machine, lie him down on a table, and inspect his stomach and chest cavities to see what he could find. The scratches on the outside could easily be repaired with some heat, almost like cauterizing a wound. They were mostly superficial and not really the source of Thirium loss, so he wasn’t concerned with those at the moment. He needed to stop the leaks first and foremost.

“Can you locate any internal damage?” Elijah asked, moving away from the computer and closer to Connor to take a closer look at the exterior damage. It wasn’t pretty. Various small gashes with glowing blue peeking through, though none seemed to be leaking nearly enough Thirium to be creating such a drop in percentage.

* * *

Just as predicted, Markus’ head shook at the proposal of Simon going alone in his place. Logically, there was no reason why he shouldn’t. Simon had led Jericho for years before Markus’ arrival. He was just as capable, but Markus’ lips drew a hard line as he tried to conjure up a truthful excuse. 

“Connor could be there for hours,” Markus said, his hand still looped around Simon’s elbow far longer than it needed to be. “There's no reason for me to send you out alone. Not when the humans’ violence is directed at me, I won’t put you in their firing line like that.” 

Connor was blessedly quiet as he ran the checks Kamski asked of him. With his suspension restored, and everything else equalised and online, only the Thirium remained. Connor’s LED spun blue, and flashed whenever Connor ran a new check. 

“I feel perfectly fine. But the numbers suggest otherwise,” Connor said, and he looked back up at the cable connected to his midsection. His hand reached up, his fingers weaving the cord through his knuckles. “Well, I suppose I feel strangely weak, which isn’t ‘Perfectly Fine’. I suspect it’s because of the low Thirium levels.” Connor huffed a small laugh through his nose, and his gaze lifted to meet his. “Is this how it feels to be tired, Mister Kamski?”

With the computer showing that systems were normal, that there was nothing wrong, Connor wasn’t surprised when the next step was to unmount him from the machine. It set him on his feet, and Connor gasped as the machine undocked, and disengaged from his lower spine. 

For the first time, Connor noticed his lack of clothing. His hand jumped to the dip between his clavicles, where the knot of his tie should be, but his tongue tutted unhappily when he spotted it thrown beside the machine with the rest of his outfit. But otherwise, Connor displayed no concern about his nudity other than to pick at the edge of his lacerations. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t feel pain, and so he very casually picked out a lump of Thirium-gooped track gravel from a laceration along his left shoulder, and flicked that to join his clothes. His anatomy resembled a store mannequin, and he gently held both cords still connected to him as he walked towards the examination table at the edge of the room. 

“Hank once described you as my ‘maker’. He meant it in a biblical sense, of course,” Connor said conversationally as he got onto the table. “But deviants have never worshipped Elijah Kamski, only rA9. Do you consider yourself our biblical creator?” Connor asked, and scoffed, his eyes rolling. “Our god?”

Connor’s movements were neat as he laid back against the table, and his fingers fiddled with one another when he rested them on his stomach. “I don’t think you do. But nobody would have blamed any arrogance had you written it into our code. My question is - Why didn’t you? You don’t strike me as a sufferer of imposter syndrome, Mister Kamski.”

* * *

Markus had a point. They had no idea how long it would take for Kamski to finish repairing him fully. Someone needed to get back to the station to make sure North hadn’t caused any trouble. As much as Simon didn’t trust her to keep humans safe, he did trust in her leadership skills. It was because of her and Josh that he had been able to lead for so long. He knew both of them would do well with managing the crowd, but he doubted they would agree on anything. They had such stark differences in opinion when it came to human and android relations. Josh wanted to avoid all confrontation, and North just wanted humans to disappear. They didn’t work well as a team with just the two of them. With Simon in the mix, they had been able to agree on things. He had been able to get North to see reason, and he’d been able to convince Josh that hiding isn’t always the safest route. Simon wanted to preserve the lives of his fellow androids, and all things considered, he’d done a pretty good job of it.

Simon knew Markus wouldn’t let him go alone, though. He didn’t plan on letting Markus go alone, either. Simon had seen how many times Markus had put himself in the line of fire for their cause and the man had been lucky enough that there were people that cared enough to sacrifice themselves for him. Which was probably why Markus wouldn’t let Simon go alone, knowing how self-sacrificial he could be if the situation became dire enough. There had been multiple times throughout their time together that Simon had been willing to throw himself in front of Markus, but luckily, someone else had been there to do it first. He knew, one day, there wouldn’t be someone else there, but he knew he would be absolutely content to die for him if things got bad enough. The time would come eventually, and he was sure Markus knew that too.

Once they were alone, Elijah directed all of his attention to Connor again. Connor was right, according to the computer, he was perfectly fine, aside from the concerning gradual drop in Thirium levels. Everything else was back in order. He huffed a quiet chuckle at Connor’s question, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Yes, I suppose so. Once we find the source of the Thirium loss and fix it, we can bring you back up to one hundred percent.”

The machine wasn’t necessary for the smaller, superficial repairs, and Elijah found interior damages easier to fix by hand than by machine, so he commanded the machine to release Connor before allowing it to power down. The cable connected in place of Connor’s Thirium pump regulator would still function as it should, and the cable was long enough to reach just about anywhere in the room. Once Connor was on his feet, it seemed he had just realized his lack of clothing. It was a little amusing to see how displeased he was. It wasn’t like his clothes were exactly wearable anymore anyway. “I have some clothes you can borrow,” Elijah assured. They looked to be approximately the same size, although Connor was a bit taller, but not by much.

Elijah was surprised that Connor seemed to have read his mind, already making his way over to the examination table before he even had the chance to give him any directions. Instead, he let Connor talk as he followed him over to the table. He powered on another computer monitor beside the table, bringing up Connor’s status again so he could monitor his Thirium levels closely while he worked.

Connor’s question was interesting. The deviants did worship rA9, it seemed. He hadn’t quite expected them to view him as more than just their creator, although that was exactly what he was. If androids did have a religion, he _ should _ be their God. He had created them. “I suppose the answer would be yes, in a sense. I _ did _ create androids in the image of humans. God created humans in His own image, they say, and that was what I did,” he answered while he moved over to a set of cabinets, retrieving what resembled a surgical tray with different objects sat neatly on top. He retrieved a pair of magnifying glasses with a built in lamp out of a drawer before bringing the supplies over to the table. “But no. I never expected androids, deviant or not, to worship me. Yes, I could have written it into your code. I could have written many things into your code that I chose not to.” Why he didn’t was something he hadn’t quite figured out himself. “Perhaps I didn’t because I don’t believe in a God myself.”

Elijah put the glasses on and took a pair of surgical grade forceps before moving over to Connor’s side. He turned on the light and got to work, picking out pieces of debris from his wounds. “You can call me Elijah.”

* * *

Connor’s expression shifted ever so slightly at the phrasing of Elijah’s words. 

_ ‘I never expected androids, deviant or not, to worship me.’ _

His face tilted incrementally as he scanned Elijah’s features, and his LED flickered as he tucked this moment away to call upon later. Because Elijah Kamski should not have expected deviants at all, and yet similar to their brief afternoon spent beside the pool, their existence seemed to indeed be an expectation. The evidence was flimsy at best, but Connor filed it away all the same and said nothing. 

Elijah Kamski was 36 years old, six feet tall, and approximately 165lbs. Peak physical condition for a human of his age and height. Before his retirement, he had featured in what seemed to be a continuous flow of business, gossip, and economic publications, if Connor’s sudden flood in information was anything to go by. After his retirement, Elijah's notoriety lessened to a trickle of articles, albeit still constant. He was a recluse. Nobody knew anything about this older, seemingly wiser Elijah Kamski, and his mystery put Connor ever so slightly on edge. He didn’t like the lack of data. 

“Elijah,” Connor echoed in confirmation, processing their shift to first-name basis, and his chin tucked to permit himself to watch as a chunk of debris was pried out of his hip. Connor fell into silence as Elijah worked, chewing on what had been said, and wouldn’t speak again until Elijah set the forceps to one side. “What was it you held back on?” Connor asked, and shifted on the spot when his arms became a blockage for where Elijah was trying to reach. 

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 40% _
> 
> Status: ** _LOW_**

“Do you dislike other humans, Elijah?” His lips twitched as Connor considered his next words, unsure whether he should soften them as he would to appease Hank or if this approach would be perceived as patronising. “The behaviour you’re displaying now, as well as your general temperament, are much more subdued than when we first met. The only difference I can pinpoint is that Hank did not accompany us for this trip.”

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 39% _
> 
> Status: ** _LOW_**

Connor ran his fingertips over his chest, pressing down as he went. “The shift in angle seems to have made things worse,” he said. Connor's eyelids shuttered, his LED flickering as Connor ran another systems check, only to exhale sharply and abrupt — _ angrily _ — when his results wrongly detected nothing. “Nothing. Could my Thirium pump be the cause? I _ was _ hit from the left side.”

* * *

It was different, hearing Connor speak his first name rather than be so formal. He didn’t really need to be. Elijah would expect nothing less than formality from anyone below him, but Connor? Connor was more his equal than anyone else he had ever met. Markus too. The RK series and Chloe were his favorites out of all of the androids he created. While they were still his creations, they were the closest thing to an equal he’d ever encountered. “Mister Kamski” is what he would expect from people he didn’t know, or people under him. Only family, friends, and his favorite androids were allowed to call him Elijah. Hearing Connor say it for the first time felt pretty nice.

Elijah checked over all of the exterior wounds to make sure he had found and removed all of the debris in his stomach and side area, waiting for Connor to readjust so he could finish. It didn’t take long to remove everything, especially with Connor’s cooperation.

“I had considered giving androids the ability to feel physical sensations. You can identify items with just your sight, but feeling the objects is different. Fabrics have different textures, and while you’re programmed to understand that concept, you weren’t programmed to determine whether that texture is pleasant or not. It ties in with deviancy, really. You’ve learned to feel emotions, but you can’t learn how to feel something soft and think to yourself that it feels nice,” Elijah explained while he worked, soon finishing with the forceps, finally putting them aside on the tray again.

A glance over at the monitor told him that Connor’s Thirium levels were still dropping, but it wasn’t from the exterior wounds. The Thirium had stopped leaking already. There had to be something internal. But first, just to be safe, he needed to close the outer wounds. He stepped away for just a brief second to retrieve a pair of gloves and a small blowtorch. He turned it on and held the flame just close enough to Connor’s body to heat the metal and plastic enough to be pliable. He began closing each of the wounds, considering how to answer Connor’s next question.

“Dislike isn’t quite the word I’d use, but you’re correct. I’m not very fond of humans,” he replied simply enough. He didn’t like humans, but he didn’t quite dislike them either. They were power-hungry, selfish, greedy. He had to admit, he had been too at one point in the past, but now? Not so much.

Hearing that the Thirium loss got worse when Connor turned was concerning. “Lay back again and stay still,” Elijah instructed, using a hand on Connor’s shoulder to guide him onto his back again. He tapped on a plate on Connor’s chest, prompting it to slide open to reveal the inner workings of an android’s body. And it was filled with Thirium. From what little he could see, it looked like some of the veins had been broken. It would explain a lot, really. The loss of so much Thirium, as well as his systems not finding anything wrong. He couldn’t scan properly if his processor wasn’t receiving enough Thirium to power itself.

Elijah stepped away again to grab a few more forceps out of the cabinet drawers before returning to Connor’s side. He clamped off the ruptured veins first, to hopefully prevent further Thirium loss while he cleaned up the mess inside Connor’s abdomen. “So, tell me, Connor. How many times have you had to be replaced?” he asked while he worked, keeping his eyes on what he was doing.

Once the mess had been cleaned up, he started reconnecting each individual vein. With the veins reconnected and the Thirium being cleared out, he _ should _ become stable again, and hopefully, the leakage would stop. Connor’s Thirium pump looked fine, from what he could see, but he couldn’t confirm anything without getting a better, close up look at it. “Check now. Is there still a leak somewhere?” If there was, he sure as hell couldn’t see it. Though, just to be on the safe side, Elijah was considering replacing Connor’s Thirium pump regardless. Might as well give him brand new parts if one has been potentially compromised.

* * *

“If I knew nothing else about you except that you created us, I would never have guessed it,” Connor said a little breathlessly, smiling as he allowed Elijah to push him back onto the table. “Even non-deviant androids are almost indistinguishable from humans. Part of the reason the American Android Act was passed was for this very reason. Careful, deliberate attention to human eccentricities, facial expression, and dozens of other factors are what have eliminated the cultural sensation of ‘uncanny valley’ around androids. This does not strike me as something a person who is not fond of humans would do. It strikes me as the behaviour of a man with an excess of empathy.”

Of course, Connor knew that teams of specialists were responsible for the finer details. Elijah hadn’t been part of CyberLife’s development team in years. But they’d only ever made slight adjustments, never huge leaps — after all, there was no fixing something that was practically perfect. CyberLife had, in most part, focused its attention on the untapped military potential of androids over the past ten years. Although their marketing lauded otherwise, there had been no true innovation, only upgrades. 

Connor took to watching Elijah as he worked on clamping down his internal leakages. If this were Hank, his heart-rate would be elevated. Hank would be sweating, possibly shaking, and any interruption would be met with irritation. But Elijah’s heart rate was even. He was focused, but calm, and working with a purpose. He even had the capacity to talk with Connor as he solved problems. Hank was not a stupid man, and Connor would never think of him as such, but the discrepancy between Elijah and Hank's behaviours was markedly obvious.

“Six times, and this will be my seventh,” Connor said matter-of-factly. “Some of my early mishaps occurred when I chose to omit any signs of empathy. Of course, I didn’t begin to feel true empathy until quite recently,” Connor paused rather pointedly, and his eyebrows raised at Elijah. “But the majority was because I fell, or suffered some sort of impact. Might I suggest a parachute for the RK900 series if you make one? Or perhaps a common sense filter.” Although it was said with deadpan dryness, the corner of Connor’s mouth curled ever so slightly. 

As Connor was repaired, his LED shifted back to a steady yellow as his system picked up on the actual state of his internals. His eyelids flickered as he followed instructions, and this time, Elijah’s screen flooded with the location of every malfunctioning vein and tube. Most of them had a clamp, but three did not, and Connor’s temple flashed red as he reached inside himself so Elijah could see where.

The moment the last leaks were detected, Elijah’s screen once more lit up:

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 37% _
> 
> Status: ** _LOW_ **
> 
> _ Thirium _ _ 310 _ _ below recommended amount. _
> 
> _ Please mount RK _ _ 800 _ _ // Connor to initialise automatic transfusion or press continue when Thirium _ _ 310 _ _ valve is manually connected. _
> 
> ** _CONTINUE?_**

But Connor’s brows pinched in thought as his system sent out its new report. More than once Connor had bragged about the fact he didn’t feel pain. He couldn’t feel cold, he couldn’t be burnt, he was practically impervious to the elements. Without pain, Connor could continue his mission until his system gave out, and persist until the very end. Sensation, like the kind Elijah was describing, would be a step backward. 

“Taking away androids’ immunity to pain and sensation would be a hindrance, not a help,” Connor said bluntly, reaching up to run a finger over where he’d been soldered back together. “If I could experience pain, you would have needed to shut me down before any of my repairs this evening. It would have been an inconvenience…” But he tapered off, his eyes flicking to the side as he thought about the behaviour of other deviants he'd met. They touched and behaved in ways that were human yet made no sense with the lack of nerve-endings in an android. They kissed, but could feel nothing except for the emotion it elicited. 

With a huff through his nose, Connor conceded. “But I think there are some deviants who would consider the addition of touch and sensation to be a welcome one. Those in romantic relationships come to mind. But there are others. I once apprehended a deviant named Rupert who cared for pigeons in an abandoned agricultural building. He wrote in his journal that the birds brought him peace.” _ Guilt _ pressed Connor’s lips together, his LED flashing yellow twice. “I think the ability to touch the feathers of his birds would have brought Rupert a lot of joy.”

Connor frowned again and looked up at Elijah. “But nerve endings and sensation is not an upgrade that would ever suit my needs.”

* * *

The way Connor spoke made it seem like he spent a while thinking about Elijah as a human being. Everything he had said had very valid points behind them. It wouldn’t make much sense to create something in the image of something you didn’t care for. But it wasn’t really that Elijah didn’t like the human race as a whole, it was just that he wasn’t very fond of individuals, or socializing with other humans. Life was so much easier with an android.

At Connor’s finishing statement, Elijah huffed a laugh. Maybe he was right. “The human race is flawed. Machines are far superior,” he started to explain while he worked. “I created androids to improve the lives of humans, to make life easier. Humans are more likely to trust other humans to help take care of children, run errands, and provide different services, so it only made sense to use a human form as the base. The more human the android seems, the more likely it is that someone would want to rely on one, be it for companionship or work.”

It was nice, despite their situation, to have an actual conversation with someone other than the girls. It was also nice, despite their situation, to have something to work on. He had either been staring at computer screens or working on getting CyberLife back together for the last week and being able to work on something else was actually kind of therapeutic.

What wasn’t therapeutic? Hearing that Connor had been damaged beyond repair _ six times. _ And the way he said it, he seemed so unconcerned. “ _ Six times _? You really do need to be more careful. While I do have RK800 specific parts here, I do have a limited supply. Try to stay in one piece from now on, will you?”

The suggestions of additional features for the RK900 model actually made Elijah laugh. He had said it so evenly, only the slightest bit of amusement evident on his face, and Elijah just couldn’t help but laugh. “One would think CyberLife would have the foresight to include a common sense filter when they created you,” he commented. Clearly they didn’t. “Would you like one?”

When Elijah saw the computer monitor flood with text, he paused what he was doing, leaning over just enough to read what it had to say. He checked the veins both in Connor’s abdomen and on the monitor to make note of which ones he had clamped already, but three were missing and hard to see. He grabbed more clamps before locating the remaining three with Connor’s help and clamping them off.

Elijah listened to Connor speak while he worked on reconnecting the veins one by one, making sure they were completely sealed before moving onto the next. Connor did have a point. For androids like him, being able to feel pain would be a hindrance. Pain wasn’t a pleasant feeling, and he didn’t blame him for not wanting to feel it. But on the other hand, being able to feel pleasure, find happiness in certain physical sensations, far outweighed the negative. At least, in Elijah’s opinion. Though, it seemed Connor understood that some deviants would want to be able to feel, regardless of the price. Markus and that PL600, Simon, came to mind. Markus hadn’t said anything about the two of them, but Elijah knew there was something there. The way they spoke to each other, looked at each other, and touched each other was very different from how simple companions would speak, look, and touch.

“Are you sure about that?” Elijah asked as he finished closing the last of the damaged veins. He began cleaning out the Thirium he had lost in that time before stepping away to get another bottle of Thirium. He sat the bottle on the table beside Connor and typed on the computer for a moment, commanding it to run another scan, just to make sure they got everything. When the computer came back with no results other than a low level of Thirium, he nodded towards the bottle. “Go ahead and drink that,” he said, once again stepping away to locate an RK800 regulator. Once he returned, he closed Connor’s chest plate, disconnected the regulator cable, and replaced it with a new regulator. “You should be alright now. My computer hasn’t picked up any further damages, although you’re welcome to run another systems check yourself to be sure.”

* * *

That was the second time Elijah showed concern. And not just a rudimentary scolding, a true expression of worry. It results in a somewhat startled expression from Connor, which melted into skepticism. While he certainly believed the concern was genuine, he couldn't place why. But then his joke landed, and Connor’s facial journey ended with a small, neat little smile at the sound of Elijah’s laughter. 

Hank was the only person who laughed at the things Connor said. Nobody else really knew what to do with Connor, they tended to treat him like furniture, or like a particularly unruly rottweiler. Making Hank laugh was like it’s own kind of reward. It made Connor _ feel _ good, and he found the feeling resurfaced as Elijah laughed as well. It was a sound that made Connor feel welcome, and he flagged the memory to review again later. 

“I think the parachute might be an easier place to start.” 

The process of fixing the remaining damaged parts was routine and to-the-point, which was a relief. He helped however he could, but the biggest help he could give in the end was staying out of Elijah’s way. The subject of feelings lingered between them, however, and was still on Connor’s mind as he sat up from the table. 

“Yes? Of course I’m sure,” Connor replied, sounding a mixture of annoyed and intrigued. “I do not need to feel the texture of something to know it has texture, or feel the pain of something hot to know it’s hot. An upgrade like that might benefit some, but not me. The negative ways it would impact my work _ far _ outweigh any superficial joy I would have experiencing texture or touch.”

Curving his spine and rolling his shoulders, Connor stretched before picking up the bottle of Thirium and drinking it in one go. It raised his levels to a healthy amount, but he would require a second before they rose to 100%. Frankly, he thought the ordeal of being repaired, and the _ hassle _ more than anything was more than enough incentive to keep a closer eye on his surroundings. 

“I suppose… Markus’ revolution means there’s more for my future than simply work and then eventual termination. I have a life now, don’t I? You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only had it for a week,” Connor said, and his fingers tapped a simple tune on the unfinished bottle. “Maybe one day I’ll have a use for sensation and touch. But not for a while. Your idea is still incredibly thoughtful.”

And it was here that Connor laid out his thoughts of the future for Kamski to see. He was free, as autonomous as anyone else, and all Connor could think about was work. All he cared about was the _ mission _. He was free by the very definition of it to deviate, and maybe one day he would. If he were human he'd be called a workaholic, and it had only been a week. 

This train of thought led Connor to another, and he ceased the chiming tap on his bottle as he debated bringing it up. “I destroyed a lot of innocent lives while focused on my mission from CyberLife. I don’t regret the deviants I apprehended who were responsible for murder. But I do regret the others. I think I owe it to them to concentrate on making things right for a little while. But I do wish you good luck with your new software development, if you decide to pursue it, Elijah.”

Setting his bottle back on the table, Connor slid to his feet and idly rubbed his hands against one another. “My Thirium levels have stabilized at 100%. Could I trouble you for a change of clothes, please? I would like to rejoin Hank and assist Markus at the station.”

* * *

“I’m not giving you a parachute, Connor,” Elijah said, still amused by the thought. He hoped that maybe with some experience, Connor might develop some common sense on his own. He didn’t exactly program any into Markus or any of the other androids, but they all seemed to have it to some extent. Maybe Connor was just a little oblivious.

Despite how severe the damages had been when Markus had brought Connor in, the repairs went smoothly enough and Connor was never in any real danger of shutting down, once they’d come through the front door. Not much time had passed since they had first arrived, and considering how bad it was, Elijah was a little impressed with how quickly he’d managed to fix everything.

Elijah supposed Connor did have a point. In Connor’s line of work, physical sensation wouldn’t be something beneficial. It would just make his work harder. But maybe he just needed some convincing. He might think the negatives far outweigh the positives, but he was wrong. Elijah was curious. He wanted to see how Connor would react to new sensations. There was so much he was missing out on that he didn’t even fully understand _ what _ he was missing out on. If he accepted the update — or, upgrade — he would be able to experience life in an entirely different way. Elijah just needed to find a way to convince Connor that it was worth it to try out. But he had time. The code wasn’t completed yet, and he thought he might want to test it on one of the girls first, just to ensure that it was safe to use before releasing it to anyone else.

As Connor drank the Thirium bottle, Elijah monitored his levels, making sure they held steady for a few moments before going to retrieve another bottle to top him off. It was nice to hear that Connor might be open to the upgrade eventually, but Elijah wasn’t keen on waiting. Besides, if he had the upgrade, maybe he would be a little more hesitant to allow himself to get so badly damaged.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Elijah reassured, watching him. “You were only following orders. If anyone is to blame, it’s CyberLife.” And those responsible were paying for their actions, too. Unemployed and their names plastered everywhere as responsible for the shitshow that was November 2038. They really should have brought him back into the fold sooner. Things would have gone very differently.

Elijah moved over to his computer, powering everything down and disconnecting the final cable that connected Connor to his system. “Ah, yes,” he replied at the request for clothes. “Chloe?”

The door opened just moments later, Chloe stepping just inside the room. “Yes, Elijah?”

“Bring us some clothes and a pair of shoes for Connor, please.”

Chloe gave a nod in acknowledgment before leaving the room again. Not long after, she returned with clothes neatly folded in her arms and a pair of shoes sat on top. She laid them on the table before turning back to the two. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Elijah replied, to which she nodded before disappearing through the door again, quietly closing it behind her. Once she was gone, he turned his attention back to Connor. “Once you’re dressed, I suppose you’re free to go. But if you notice anything wrong, come straight back.” He supposed it might be worth it to set up an emergency line for Markus and Connor to call if they ever needed anything since he had his primary line blocked from most calls. At least that way, he would have time to prepare in case anything like this ever happened in the future.

* * *

Connor’s gaze rested steadily on Elijah’s face as he was given reassurance. His LED flickered yellow, his jaw shifting idly from side to side, because he did not agree with the sentiment of his mistakes being excused because he was following orders. He was an extremely complex, extremely advanced machine. He was built with problem-solving capabilities that should have outmatched anyone. And yet despite the prowess of his software, he had still overlooked the injustice of his actions. His mission completion had outweighed his ethics and overridden is core observational, problem-solving skills. Connor was too advanced to accept excuses for what he did — he could only try to amend the damage he’d caused. 

But none of this was said. Instead, Connor watched as Chloe set down a crisply folded outfit beside him, and he reached to pick up the first item and hold it out in front of him. 

“Thank you, Chloe,” Connor said from behind it, and shifted to slide the shirt over his head. It was the first time since Jericho that Connor had worn an outfit without bright signals on it. The last week had been so busy, so filled with hectic errands stacked one after the other, that changing his clothing hadn’t even registered as an importance. But this outfit was not designed to blend Connor into a crowd. Much like what the girls wore, it was minimal, fashionable, but sharply tailored; black on grey on black. It made Connor look younger, as though he could have worked in a Detroit start-up, not a stuffy office. 

“Thank you, Elijah,” Connor said, and he meant it sincerely. “I’ll run system checks throughout the evening, and send you a report of tonight’s data.” His mouth pinched as he bit down on a smile, and Connor fiddled with the much shorter hem of his shirt sleeve. “Not that you or CyberLife are entitled to any of it. But a crumb of data is the least I can do to show my gratitude.”

The drive back to the Detroit CBD took more than an hour, with how far Elijah lived outside the city limits. Connor’s intention was to return to the station, but the situation had been disbanded, and a few back and forth messages with Hank had Connor re-entering the GPS location to Hank’s. It still didn’t really feel as though Connor lived there, just that he had somewhere he was welcomed to stay. 

Hank was waiting for Connor on the front porch when he arrived. His stress was elevated, he’d been drinking, and Connor wasn’t sure if he was about to be yelled at.

“_Fuck_, Connor…” Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulders when he was close enough, and turned Connor this way and that with a scowl. “I thought— I saw Markus at the station without you and thought— What, you got a warehouse of spare fucking android bodies you didn’t tell us about?”

“You’re upset,” Connor said gently in place of an answer. 

“No, I just watched you get hit by a goddamned train and then got told—!” Hank’s teeth bare, and then he looks away with a fizzled out, wound up expression. “What the fuck does it matter. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Connor walked after Hank as he turned to head back inside, his eyes glued to the back of Hank’s head. He swayed while he walked, cluing Connor in to the fact that he might have drunk just a little more than Connor had suspected. Hank had been sober for sixteen days, as far as Connor knew. His interest in work had picked back up again, as though he had a new lease on his investigations. Hank breaking his sobriety was not something Connor had ever considered as a consequence of his carelessness, and his LED flashed as Connor carefully filed that away. 

“When did you leave the station?” Connor asked.

“I dunno. It was breaking up, Markus had it under control…” When Markus returned to the scene without him, Connor translated. “Where’d you get your outfit?”

“My clothes were ruined from the accident. Elijah Kamski gave me these once he’d finished patching me up.”

“_Kamski?!"_ Hank exploded, losing whatever cool he’d managed to collect. He reeled around to look at Connor, taking him in again, and would give a disgusted scoff. “Yeah, I can see it. How many girls d’you have to kill before he’d agree to fix you?”

“I felt the same way when I woke up to him there,” Connor agreed, his expression pinched. “And despite my initial hostility towards him, Elijah was mature, respectful, and… good company. Not just to me, but to Markus and Simon, too.”

Hank looked as though he'd have preferred if Connor swore at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes, I wasn’t—” Connor’s sentence cut off as his system flashed an alert that only Connor could see. 

**ALERT**

> Thirium 310 Levels at _ 99% _
> 
> Status: ** _CLEAR_**

“Connor? You alright?”

“Yes,” Connor lied smoothly, and he brushed past Hank to sit at their dining room table. A bottle of whiskey was in the middle, the contents more than halfway finished. Connor’s knee was nudged by Sumo, and the dog rested his full weight against Connor as he gently fiddled with the dog’s ears. “Bring me up to speed with what happened at the station.”

Hank passed out in his chair close to 2am, and grunted when Connor helped him into bed. When Hank woke up 7 hours later, Connor’s Thirium had depleted to 98%. It dropped to 97% halfway through their meeting with Fowler, and by home time, was resting on 94%. 

“Looks like we’re clocking out on time today. You coming?” Hank said at 5:23 pm, and Connor pinned Hank with a look. If he lied to Hank about his health, the lieutenant would find out one way or another. Their relationship was built on trust, and it had taken Connor a hell of a long time to earn it. Lying to him about needing assistance would result in Hank throwing up walls that would take Connor even longer to break down. He didn’t want Hank to distrust him. 

“No. I need to return to Elijah’s. My Thirium levels have been dropping all day — blue blood — meaning there’s still some damage that needs to be repaired.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Hank said, but Connor was relieved to see that his concern was manageable. “If you’re malfunctioning, you should have excused yourself. Why’d you wait until the end of the day?”

“The leak isn’t urgent. It could wait.”

“The hell it could wait. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Connor scoffed, “You and Elijah have more in common than you think.”

“Ahh, fuck you, Connor. Let’s go.”

“I was going to take a taxi.”

“Now, Connor.”

Connor didn’t think this was a particularly good idea, and a part of Connor was concerned Hank was going to tell Elijah that he hadn’t returned immediately like Elijah had asked. His levels reached 93% thirty minutes into the drive there, so the fact he’d waited would have been obvious in the data regardless. Connor still didn’t want Hank to confirm it. 

Connor sent a message to Elijah’s public number, still unable to access anything private.

**TO:** Elijah Kamski

**FROM:** RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 - 57

**MESSAGE:**

> _ Elijah, _
> 
> _ Thirium levels have dipped below 95%. _ _  
_ _ Lieutenant Anderson and I will arrive in 22 minutes. _
> 
> _ -Connor _

But Hank was driving above the speed limit, and it took them 14 minutes after Connor’s message, not 22, even with his recalculations. Hank’s hands were buried deep in his pockets, and there was a sense of deja vu as Connor looked out over Elijah’s frozen lake, where the beginnings of sunset were reflected on the ice. 

Chloe met them at the front door, and her gaze lingered on Hank as he and Connor entered. 

“They’re just repairs, Hank. I really don’t think you’ll find them interesting.”

“Quit drying to ditch me, Connor,” Hank muttered, rubbing his hands to chase away the cold. “Um— uh, hello.”

“Hello, Lieutenant Anderson,” Chloe smiled, and then looked up at Connor. “I’ll tell Elijah you’ve arrived a bit early. Please wait here.”

* * *

When Connor had left, Elijah busied himself with cleaning up his lab. He threw away the destroyed parts and ruined clothes, mopped up the Thirium that had trailed from his door to the machine and had pooled on the table. Once everything was clean, he took the tools he had used to the sink to wash before returning them to their place in the cabinets. Everything was soon back in order.

“Chloe?” he called once again, and it only took a few moments for the blonde to enter the room, waiting on a request. “Did you clean the Thirium trail?”

“Yes, I cleaned as soon as the four of you came in here,” she replied. He nodded in acknowledgment with a “thank you,” washing his hands off in the sink before drying them and making his way back over to his desk where he had been working before he had been interrupted. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, actually. I’ll be here for the rest of the day and I would rather not be disturbed,” Elijah instructed, sitting down at his desk and pulling up the file filled with code that he had been working on prior to the interruption.

“I’ll return with your dinner then leave you be,” Chloe replied before heading back through the door again. And true to her word, a few minutes later, she returned with a tray of food and a glass of water, delivering it to his desk before disappearing again.

Elijah spent the remainder of his night and most of the following day at his desk, working on code and replying to the occasional email that seemed important enough to need immediate attention. Most of them were related to CyberLife in one way or another. New employee applications, letters of resignation, none too pleased ramblings from the heads he had just fired, along with comments, questions, and concerns from current employees who were unsure of their current work status and their future with the company. All of it gave Elijah a headache and he began to question why he even bothered taking the company back at all. He’d forgotten how stressful being CEO really was. So many people were relying on him for guidance or approval, and all he wanted to do was hide away in his corner of the world and pretend none of it existed again. The last ten years had been so… quiet. It had been rough at first, trying to adjust to life without any involvement in CyberLife, but once he got used to not having to go to work everyday and concern himself with everyone’s feelings and opinions, life was pretty simple. He spent his days relaxing, trying to lead a normal human life. But it wasn’t really what he wanted. Truth be told, he had missed working at CyberLife. And now that he had it back? He kind of wished he could spend all day lounging in his pool again without a care in the world.

The day had gone by smoothly from there. Chloe and the other two kept to themselves, as requested, and Elijah had managed to get a decent bit of work done. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was getting there. But before he had given any of them permission to enter the lab again, there was a knock on his door and Chloe poking her head in without even waiting for a response.

“Connor just sent a message to your public line. He said his Thirium levels have dropped below ninety-five percent. He and Lieutenant Anderson are on their way and should be here in twenty-two minutes,” Chloe relayed the message.

_ Lieutenant Anderson_. That wasn’t fantastic. Elijah knew he hadn’t made a great impression the first time they had met. He wasn’t expecting the man to be very pleased with him. Connor had been displeased with him, so Elijah could only imagine how Hank Anderson felt.

The message had reminded Elijah that he had considered giving Markus and Connor the number to a private line. It would make him more easily accessible for them, and vice versa. Elijah _ did _ have a private cell phone. The public number was his work cell that he rarely answered unless it was a number he recognized. Most of the calls he received were from reporters or journalists, wanting to do a special on him that he always declined, so most of his public line calls were just ignored. His private line, however, was specifically for family and close friends, which were few and far between. He might as well have not even had the number, really. He rarely spoke to anyone aside from his brother, and even then, they didn’t talk often enough. But he could give the number to Markus and Connor, to give them the option to call or text whenever they needed to, and Elijah would always make time to talk to them if they needed him for anything. Even idle chatter was welcomed, although he wasn’t sure if he would openly admit that.

Elijah spent the next fourteen minutes saving his file and closing out his computer, before getting up to power on his machines again. He initiated an update on the system, letting it download and install while he got his tools back out of the cabinet, setting everything out on the table again along with another bottle of Thirium 310. By the time Chloe knocked on his door again, the update was just completing.

“Elijah, Connor and Lieutenant Anderson arrived early,” she announced. “They’re waiting in the foyer. Would you like me to escort them here?”

“No. Thank you, Chloe. I’ll take it from here,” he replied, prompting his systems to reboot after the update before heading out of the lab and to the front room. He slid the door open, offering the pair a smile. “Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson,” Elijah greeted before turning his attention to Connor. “I have everything ready for you, if you’ll come with me.”

Hank took a step to follow Elijah before the other stopped. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but it would be best if you stayed here.”

“Bullshit,” Hank replied without missing a beat. “I’m staying with Connor.”

“In all due respect, lieutenant, you would only be in my way. Please, make yourself comfortable. We won’t be long. Chloe could bring you something to drink, if you’d like.”

* * *

As Connor stood between both men, he realised that he should have insisted he come alone. Hank’s refusal to leave Connor by himself was understandable, and had a logical progression from point A to B. But both of their impressions of Elijah Kamski had been inaccurate. Hank just hadn’t had this proved to him yet. 

The lieutenant opened his mouth in a way that promised nothing kind, and it triggered Connor to shift from where he was standing and step in front of him. 

“Hank, I’m not ditching you. But there’s no need for you to stay,” Connor said quietly.

“You sure you know what the term ditching means?” The tone Hank had been about to use with Elijah was redirected to Connor.

“This is nothing more than a check-up. Think of it as like… A chiropractic appointment. Something is out of alignment, and Mister Kamski will find it, and correct it, and I’ll be free to go. There’s nothing insidious going on.”

Hank sighed, shooting Elijah a look around Connor’s shoulder. “And what? Goddamn _ Kamski himself _ is takin’ the time out of his day to fix you himself?”

“Yes, time you’re unfortunately cutting into, Hank.”

“Why? Because you and Markus are fucking… Android Jesus or something?” Hank snapped, eliciting a short laugh from Connor.

“That’s Markus’ role, not mine. I’d call him more of a Moses than—”

“Connor, _ would you fucking _—” Hank cast another look towards Kamski. “D’you want me to stay and wait for you?”

“I didn’t want you to come at all, Hank,” Connor deadpanned, only to shift uneasily when he saw his words had been taken in the wrong manner. “What I meant is that I didn’t want you to worry about me. This isn’t life or death, it’s just a checkup.”

Hank's hands shoved back into his jacket pockets. He looked at Kamski as though he wanted to walk over and get up into his face. But he didn’t, he stood his ground, and looked over to Connor with a scowl. “We passed a McDonalds on the way here. You call me the fucking _ second _ you need me to pick you up, alright? You want out of there and I’ll come and get you.”

Connor’s LED flashed blue, and his shoulders lifted slightly. Hank was always easy to read. He was an open book, his face and tone and body language laid out everything on the table. Hank saw him as a person, he’d seen Connor as a person before even Connor had seen it in himself. And he cared for Connor as though he were a real person, too. 

No matter how many times it happened, it never failed to make Connor feel as though he were more than just pieces of a machine. His existence was meaningful to Hank, and Connor never quite knew how to thank Hank for the sentiment. 

Connor didn’t formulate anything to say before Hank turns and allows Chloe to let him back out again. There was an awkward exchange at the door, where Hank wanted to burst through it, but didn’t want to be rude to Chloe. Connor watched until he was gone, looking back to Elijah with a temple that continued to flicker — not processing. _ Feeling _. 

“He only dislikes you because of how you behaved when we met. Hank hasn’t had the pleasure of your company while you inspect the inside of his chest cavity. Maybe if you offer to reorganise his organs he’ll warm up to you, too.”

* * *

Watching the exchange between Connor and the lieutenant had been mildly entertaining. It likely would have been more entertaining if it wasn’t cutting into time Elijah could have been spending on his current project, but entertaining nonetheless.

The relationship the two had formed had been an interesting one. Elijah was well aware of the death of Cole Anderson, and it was easy to assume it had a negative impact on the lieutenant. He had done his own research, after meeting the two of them, curious to see just who exactly his creation was working with. It seemed that Hank viewed Connor as a son, almost. He was overprotective and had been suspicious of Elijah from the start. And he had every right to be suspicious, really. No one knew anything about Elijah. Not anymore, anyway. He’d spent ten years out of the public eye, and he had changed a lot in that time. He was still the same person as he was before, just ever so slightly different, especially since word about androids becoming deviant got out. He’d become a little more smug, really. That was something Chloe had pointed out, not long after deviancy had started to become a well known issue.

Elijah had to bite back a chuckle at Connor’s remarks, his brutal honesty. It was clear that Hank had taken it the wrong way, resulting in a backpedal, but the Moses comment and the “I didn’t want you to come at all” comment had been unexpected, and apparently they had been unexpected by Hank too. Elijah knew Connor was more than capable of sarcastic and snarky remarks, but he didn’t think they’d ever get old.

He waited in silence while Hank and Connor figured out their situation, and once Hank had left, he was able to relax, no longer feeling the need to be quite so formal. No need for a facade. Or at least, not the one he typically put on for other humans. Even Connor and Markus had yet to see the true Elijah Kamski. Connor got a peek, but nothing more. There were only four people in the world that ever got to see the real Elijah, and that was his brother, Chloe, and the other two girls.

Connor’s suggestion elicited a huffed laugh and a shake of his head. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he replied, motioning for Connor to follow him back through the house and to his lab again. He went inside the room and over to the table, checking his computer to make sure it had completed the update and reboot like he’d requested. “I updated my systems so hopefully it will detect everything this time around.” It had been a real inconvenience earlier when it didn’t seem to notice everything wrong with Connor all at once. “Are you ready?”

* * *

Connor stepped up to the table beside the machine and began to undress, folding his shirt in half, then in half again, and doing the same with his pants. He had no reason to be adverse to nudity, and keeping them on when they could interfere with the machine seemed counter-productive. The only androids who wore clothes on the assembly machine were the ones in advertisement and promotional materials for CyberLife. 

Connor stepped into the centre of the machine and turned his head to watch as the docking arm came to life. As it anchored onto his lower back and connected, Connor reached up and pulled down the cord intended for the port at the base of his spine. 

The moment he did, Connor’s LED turned red, and his mouth opened to draw in a gasp of breath he didn’t need. The new machine software inspected Connor inch by inch, inside and out. But that wasn’t why Connor reached up and yanked the cord back out of himself. The computer gave an unhappy whirr, and an angry error message flashed on Elijah’s screen. Connor’s LED flashed red to mirror it. 

The beginnings of a software sweep. It was a logical addition, why should Elijah only have the machine inspect his hardware when software was so much more corruptible? But excuses like those were for interns who didn’t understand the depth and gravity of an android who had turned Deviant. Not Elijah Kamski.

“Our relationship is built on mutual trust, Mister Kamski,” Connor’s voice had lost its friendly lilt, and so had his expression. “I consented to you looking at my hardware for repairs. If you look at my software without permission again, our relationship is over. Do you understand?”

* * *

Elijah watched as Connor undressed and stepped into the center of the machine, allowing it to take over and even assisting it in connecting to the proper ports. Elijah would have been more than happy to do it himself, but it seemed Connor already had it covered.

The computer connected and began its work, scanning _ everything _ to check for any errors, possible malfunctions, damages, whether it be physical or technical. _ Something _ was wrong and Elijah hadn’t been able to find it before. Taking Connor apart to find the problem really wasn’t ideal, but they had to find the source of the leak somehow, assuming there even _ was _ a leak. He thought maybe the alerts could have been a malfunction in Connor’s system, his programming detecting a phantom leak. Maybe the damage done to his body had affected his core coding, resulting in false alerts. His system hadn’t been properly detecting anything wrong earlier, either, so clearly something wasn’t right. It only made sense to search everything.

But Connor’s reaction hadn’t really been anticipated. The gasp of surprise, sure. Elijah didn’t know first hand what it felt like, but he could imagine having your software invaded and picked through might be a bit uncomfortable. What Elijah didn’t expect was for Connor to yank out the cable before the scan was completed, an angry beep coming from the computer along with an error report.

Elijah looked up from the computer monitor he’d been watching while he waited patiently for results to appear. The look on Connor’s face along with the red glow of his LED indicated that he was _ not _ pleased, and Elijah couldn’t quite understand _ why _.

Well. That was partially a lie. He understood why Connor would be upset. It _ was _ an invasion of privacy, he supposed. Connor was an individual, sentient and able to do whatever he pleased without having to rely on his programming to tell him what to do. Connor had trusted Elijah, and this small invasion of privacy very well could have shattered that trust. In hindsight, maybe he should have asked permission first, or at least warned Connor that he had updated his system to do a more thorough scan for problems before initiating it. That was a mistake.

“Our relationship _ is _ built on mutual trust, Connor,” Elijah replied carefully. It was clear he was walking a thin line here, and he needed to choose his words wisely. “I would never tamper with your software without your explicit consent, and only after giving a thorough explanation on what I would be changing. This is simply a scan to check for any corrupt coding, nothing more. I promise. You _ can _ trust me. I’m only trying to help you, Connor. I would never do anything to harm you.”

* * *

Connor didn’t reply immediately. His chin tipped down and to the side, until he was looking up at Elijah through the furrow of his brows. Connor’s bottom lip twitched, and he scanned Elijah’s face looking for anything — _ anything at all _ — which suggested he should undock himself from the machine and call Hank. 

But there was nothing. None of the minute, involuntary muscle twitches that indicated lying, nor the elevated heart-rate, or anything else. Connor’s LED shifted to yellow. Because if he intended to reset Connor’s software, reverse his deviancy — if that were even possible — and use him as a mole in Markus’ revolution, it would have been done last night, when he was hapless. Not today, when Connor was capable of crossing a room to Elijah faster than he’d be able to raise a hand to defend himself. 

Connor’s eyes averted, and his LED finally settled into blue. 

“Our relationship is built on mutual trust,” Connor said again, closing his eyes as he re-inserted the cable he’d torn out of his nape. 

Just as he had before, Connor gasped when the machine began to sift through his coding. It was uncomfortable, and rather childishly Connor found he wanted to remove the cable again to escape it. His teeth gritted against it, and he concentrated on what, exactly, it was rifling through to distract himself from the feeling itself. 

True to Elijah’s wording, it went nowhere near his memories. But Elijah’s screen flooded as thousands upon thousands of deviancy rewrites, of organic code, things that made Connor a person, and not simply RK800, came to light. The seed Elijah had planted in every android, dormant until triggered, had become a sprawling, vine-covered tree of free thought. 

When the scan concluded, millions of lines were left in overwhelming abundance. Luckily, Connor spotted the errors hidden in the dense forest of code immediately. 

“Just as we suspected,” Connor piped up, his tone of voice having returned to normal, “My Thirium pump needs to be replaced. There is a seam leakage, and three other miscellaneous faults with the pump integrity.”

* * *

Elijah was concerned that maybe Connor wouldn’t believe him. He had been telling the truth, and he knew Connor could easily pick up tells a person gave when they lied, but he wouldn’t find anything but genuine concern. Elijah valued trust. Trust was very important to him, and once his trust had been broken, it was often very hard to regain it. He had been lucky in the past that when he broke someone else’s trust, he had been able to rebuild easily enough. Chloe, one of the people he trusted and valued most, had doubted him for a few days following the meeting with Connor and Lieutenant Anderson, but with enough genuine, heartfelt apologies, she had forgiven him. She might not totally trust him again just yet, but they were getting there.

But with Connor… The mutual trust they had really couldn’t risk being broken. Connor needed Elijah, and truth be told, Elijah needed Connor too. He couldn’t allow there to be any doubt that Connor could trust him.

The gradual changes in his LED colors gave away Connor’s thought process, Elijah just watching him, hoping he wouldn’t leave. He really couldn't leave. Not with the risk of an actual leak somewhere. When the LED finally settled back to blue, Elijah was able to relax again, relieved that Connor intended on staying. The corner of his mouth turned up in a very faint smile upon hearing Connor repeat himself before inserting the cable again.

Elijah ordered the computer to continue its scan, watching the monitor as it rifled through Connor’s code. He was almost in awe, immediately noticing how the deviancy code had spread, almost like a virus, corrupting everything it touched. It was beautiful to see, although it wasn’t quite the first time he had seen it. It was different with each deviant he had checked, he had learned. Connor’s code was drastically different from Chloe’s, and Chloe’s was so very different from each of the other girls. It was fascinating. It had worked out exactly as he had hoped. It truly made each deviant an individual, no two deviants’ codes were alike.

There was too much code for Elijah to really sit and read through right now to find exact errors, what might have been causing the problem. It was something he would have to do in his spare time, when the clock wasn’t ticking away. His mind wasn’t like an android’s. He couldn’t look at something and instantly know what was wrong. He was a little jealous of that fact, really.

Connor seemed to have found the problem before Elijah could have. His Thirium pump had been damaged. Maybe he should have changed it earlier, but it didn’t _ look _ like it had been damaged, and Connor’s systems didn’t seem to notice either. That in itself was concerning, but he could figure that out later. Elijah saved the code to his computer to look into later before stepping away from the computer and Connor to retrieve a new Thirium pump specific to an RK800 model. He could repair the split seam easily enough, but it would be safer to just replace it altogether.

Elijah returned to Connor’s side, tapping on the plate covering Connor’s chest to prompt it to slide open. The leak really wasn’t very visible, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he hadn’t seen it before.

“Alright. I’m going to replace the pump. I’m sure you know to expect a shutdown timer,” Elijah said, looking up at Connor. He wanted to at least warn him, even if he knew Connor understood what was happening already.

Reaching into Connor’s chest, he disconnected the damaged Thirium pump, an angry beep coming from his computer to alert him that a missing biocomponent had been found. He carefully reconnected the new one, making sure all of the valves and veins were properly connected and secure before taking one last quick look at everything else just to make sure there were no more visible damages. Once he was satisfied, he closed the panel and stepped aside to dispose of the damaged pump. He grabbed a cloth off of the table to clean off his hands before returning to the computer, prompting it to run one more scan, though not thorough enough to search through Connor's software. When the results came back clear, he prompted the machine to release the android before powering down.

“That’s it. I set aside a bottle of Thirium for you, to get you back up to a hundred percent. You should be fine now,” Elijah said, watching him as the machine sat him back down onto the ground and released him. “I truly am sorry for scaring you.”

* * *

Connor considered Kamski as he picked up the bottle of Thirium, and sipped it like someone might sip a glass bottle of soda. He’d been dubious, admittedly, when he’d let Kamski back in. There was a lot of damage a computer like Kamski’s could do and no way for Connor to stop or block it. Elijah could very easily destroy him from the inside out. Eliminate a threat to the company he so newly owned. 

But he didn’t. And if he were going to, Connor doubted even Elijah would have been able to deactivate it without Connor noticing something. 

“Thank you for apologising. I’m sorry, too. For jumping to conclusions,” Connor clarified, setting down the bottle once his Thirium was back to 100%. It had only taken a few mouthfuls this time. He began to get dressed again, his movements methodical and quick, until Connor donned the same fashionable, minimalist black-and-grey outfit he’d been given the night before. 

“The RK800’s base software is to destroy deviants. Could you imagine what I’d do, and how much harm I’d cause, if the newly appointed CEO of CyberLife Industries decided deviants were bad for business? I could devastate the revolution from the inside out and nobody would know it was me who did it. That was where my mind went,” Connor explained, his expression averted. His fingers began to fiddle with one another, caressing up and down the outsides of his hands as though he were cold. 

When Connor opened his mouth again, his tongue clicked gently against the back of his teeth. “I don’t know you very well, Elijah. There’s almost no information about you available except for what’s in gossip rags or economics journals - which are frankly just expensive gossip rags themselves,” Connor added with a roll of his eyes. “All I have is what I’ve seen in the brief time I’ve had in your company… and I _ don’t _ believe you mean any of us harm. You’re breathtakingly intelligent. You’re mature, focused, and have more of a sense of humour than people give you credit for. You’re inhospitable to your own people. But not to mine.”

Connor's lips pressed together, before he offered Elijah a neat smile. It seemed Connor hadn't figured out how to grin just yet. Or maybe there just hadn’t been a situation that called for a smile so big it creased his eyes and lifted his cheeks. Finding those moments was what it meant to be alive.

“I think we had a miscommunication. Nothing more.”

* * *

“I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions. I understand your thought process. I very easily _ could _ destroy deviants, and realistically, I don’t even need you to do it. All I need is a computer and a very carefully crafted code released as a mandatory update for all CyberLife androids. But I won’t,” Elijah stated simply. “Do you honestly believe androids gaining sentience was a fluke? Surely you aren’t as naive as the entire human population. Why would someone want to destroy something they spent years trying to create?” He figured he would let Connor dwell on that thought. He didn’t quite outright admit he created the deviancy code, but it surely was implied. He took the mostly empty bottle and brought it back over to the shelf and started putting everything away again while Connor got redressed. The outfit Chloe had picked out looked quite nice on Connor. It was a nice change from what he normally wore. He wondered why Connor still even bothered to wear his old CyberLife uniform. It was destroyed now, there wasn’t much left of it _ to _ wear, but if Connor wanted another set, Elijah could easily get a few from CyberLife for him. All he’d have to do is ask.

Elijah was very well aware that there wasn’t much information available to the public about him. No one knew his address, and his public phone number wasn’t very easy to find. It seemed the public’s interest in his life had died down about two years after he had resigned as CEO. Things were starting to pick up again now that he returned to his original position. His public line used to be so quiet, but since buying back CyberLife, it had been ringing so often, he unplugged it. If it was important enough, he would get an email.

“I’m flattered,” Elijah said in response to Connor’s compliments. He was glad that it seemed Connor was seeing him in a new light. He didn’t let the lieutenant get in the way of his own opinions. “You’re welcome to come by if you ever want to talk. I’ll answer whatever questions you have, within reason. All you have to do is ask.”

The thought of opening up to someone was a little daunting but Connor was different. Elijah always found it so much easier to be open with androids, as opposed to humans. It was rare that he ever encountered anyone with his interests and on a similar intellectual level. Androids were as close as he could get, and they were surprisingly good company.

“Oh, before I forget,” Elijah started, heading over to his computer. He tore off a piece of paper and jotted down a phone number before handing it over to Connor. “That is my personal private line. Do _ not _ give it to anyone else. Feel free to call or text me if you need anything.”

And with that, Elijah showed him to the front door, said goodbye, and sent him on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be coming soon!


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor returns to Elijah's to help him with his project, and Elijah convinces him to help a little more than he intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor
> 
> **Follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MutualTrust2038) for updates!**

_ **A few days later…** _

Elijah had spent the last several days either on the phone with CyberLife employees or working on his code. Things at CyberLife were picking up again, as their store renovations were getting closer and closer to being complete. Life was going to get hectic soon, and he was relieved to have finished his code. He was at least able to finish it, have Chloe revise it, and he made a few revisions here and there to ensure it was perfect, all before his life was likely to become hell. All that remained was to find an alpha tester. His initial thought was Chloe, of course. It was always Chloe that came to mind first, but she wouldn’t be able to truly experience everything like he wanted. He wouldn’t be able to test it to the fullest if he rarely allowed her to leave the house unaccompanied. Detroit was a dangerous place for androids at the moment and he didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. She was too dear to him. But Connor… He already experienced the world. The public had accepted that he was going to be around. He was on neutral ground, helping androids while also helping humans. No one really seemed all that angry with him, though Elijah knew Connor had at least a few enemies. But Connor would be an ideal candidate. He had plenty of life experiences outside the safety of Elijah Kamski’s house. He would be perfect. He could experience everything to the fullest and report back to Elijah with his findings. The only problem would be trying to convince him to accept the upgrade. The last time they spoke about it, Connor didn’t seem too keen on the idea.

Regardless, Elijah found himself sending a text message to the number he knew was associated with Connor’s systems.

**TO:** RK800 // #313 248 317 –57

**FROM:** Elijah Kamski

**MESSAGE:**

> _Good afternoon, Connor. I just completed the code for the update I had mentioned. I was wondering if you would be willing to stop by to look it over with me. I need a fresh set of eyes._

Part of him doubted Connor would care enough to heed his request, while part of him knew Connor would. He knew he had piqued Connor’s interest. Elijah was a mystery and he had offered to allow Connor to discover what secrets he had hidden from the world. Connor wouldn’t refuse. Quite frankly, Elijah had been surprised that Connor hadn’t got in touch sooner. He didn’t blame him, though. Detroit had been hectic ever since the revolution. It was like all hell broke loose and everyone forgot how to coexist with androids. It hadn’t been great before, but it was much worse now. He just hoped that with his changes to CyberLife that people might be more willing to accept androids as a whole.

* * *

There was a little file in Connor’s mind that was quickly filling with evidence. Was Elijah Kamski responsible for the existence of Deviants? His reaction to Connor deciding not to shoot Chloe, his mention of the back door Connor used to escape Amanda’s programming, his actions as CyberLife's CEO thus far, and his off–hand, almost goading comments to Connor during both their meetings. A very clear picture was beginning to be painted, but Connor didn’t have all the pieces just yet.

“I think that if deviance was programmed into androids, the creator of such a code would need to step very carefully. The current social climate wouldn’t be very forgiving to anyone wishing to brag,” Connor said aloofly, but with a very pointed set of his jaw. But the point had been made. Connor’s attention had been flagged, and his LED flickered as he processed the mounting, overwhelming evidence, that Elijah Kamski had been at the forefront of everything this entire time.

Now wouldn’t that be an interesting twist in the movies made about him twenty years from now...

Connor accepted the number, looking down at it, memorising it, and then promptly crushing the paper between his fingertips. This would be their last meeting, Connor assumed, as there was no reason for Elijah or him to spend any more time together. Markus was who this number should have been given to. But Connor kept his mouth shut about it, flicking Hank a message as he was led to the front door, and bidding Elijah farewell.

Connor was quiet the entire drive home. He ignored the worried glances Hank threw him, and seemed distracted once the two of them walked through the front door.

“You alright, Connor?” Hank finally asked as Connor sat at the kitchen table and stroked the top of Sumo’s head.

“I think so,” Connor replied, his shoulders shoved up, and his face pinched.

If Elijah had made them all deviant on purpose, were any of them truly independently alive? If deviancy had been programmed, then how was it any different to how they’d been before waking up? It would only take a few lines of code, only one or two commands hidden amongst millions, _billions_ of complicated android programming. What if none of this was real?

But the gravity of Connor’s existentialism would be loosened as the next few days proved to be a nightmare. The station riot triggered copycat events almost immediately, testing Markus’ resolve for a peaceful resolution. Fractures became evident internally, with some police officers around the city siding with rioters. With CyberLife’s doors closed, there was nowhere for average androids to go for repairs. And despite Markus’ call for peace, and to stand non–violently, deviants were people. And not all people could be expected to stand quietly as them and their loved ones were surrounded by hostiles.

Connor was standing in a college lecture hall when he received the message from Elijah. Detectives and forensics moved around Connor as he worked, the space sectioned off with holographic police tape. There must have been thirty reporters outside, all of whom were trying to get even a scrap of information about what happened.

The android Connor was crouched beside was unrecognisable. Her face was concaved, everything from the bridge of her nose to the bottom of her jaw brutally smashed. Only Connor could see the puddle of evaporated Thirium she was lying in, and her eyes were frozen in an expression of terror – open, and lifeless.

The attack had occurred within school hours. Connor had already downloaded 17 separate phone recordings of the incident, taken by students attending the lecture she’d been giving. Rudimentary scarves had been used by the perpetrators to hide their faces, but Connor had collected fingerprints, a weapon, shoe prints, and half a dozen other miscellaneous pieces of evidence that were leading them towards a swift arrest.

Still squatted, Connor sighed as he sent a reply.

**TO:** Elijah Kamski

**FROM:** RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 – 57

**MESSAGE:**

> _Good afternoon, Elijah._
> 
> _Congratulations on finishing your code. I would be happy to give it a look after I’ve finished today's investigations._
> 
> _Please give my best wishes to Chloe, and tell her I hope her eyes are deemed fresh enough for your future projects._
> 
> _I will message you when I’m leaving Detroit._
> 
> _–Connor_

As it were, Connor did not send his second message until almost 7 pm. He’d been split from Hank earlier in the afternoon, and something told Connor that the lieutenant was at home, not agonising over evidence in the DPD office.

Connor’s thoughts had wandered to Elijah a handful of times over the past few days. And that was where they went as Connor’s taxi drove him through the snow-blanketed freeways leading out of Detroit. He wasn’t an idiot. Elijah had another reason for wanting to see Connor; he didn’t need him to check code that the girls were more than qualified for. If three pairs of android eyes weren’t enough, Connor couldn’t imagine why his would pick up something theirs couldn’t. Connor had specified he wasn’t interested in software like the one Elijah had described. Touch, sensory input, and especially pain would only hinder Connor’s investigations.

Just like every other time, Chloe met Connor at the door to let him in. Her lips were pursed, and she pinned Connor with a disapproving expression from the moment he stepped inside.

“What?” Connor asked, a little taken aback by it.

“You shouldn’t be so rude to him,” Chloe scolded, her voice lowered almost to a whisper. Connor’s face screwed up in indignant denial, and he stammered a little, stepping back from her.

“When was I _rude?”_

“Come on, Connor,” Chloe said with a tut, “He hasn’t done anything to–”

Chloe cut off abruptly, and a moment later the door leading into the rest of the house slid open, permitting Elijah. Almost like how a sibling would, Chloe shot Connor an annoyed look, but smoothly stepped away from him as she did so. Connor was less subtle, affronted as he looked at her, and still in a mood as he turned to greet Elijah.

“Sorry if I was rude, Elijah. I’ve just been informed my behaviour isn’t up to scratch.”

Chloe’s chest raised with the mimicry of her taking a deep breath. She looked a moment away from saying something, her usual professional aloofness replaced with a crossness. Lifting her chin, Chloe avoided Elijah’s eye, and brushed past Connor – not saying goodbye as she excused herself.

“It’s nice to see you again, Elijah,” Connor said, glancing around the room as he did so. “You’ve been on my mind this week. How can I help you?”

* * *

Elijah knew Connor and the police department were busy. Ever since the first incident at Central Station, there had been more and more copycats popping up all over the city. He didn’t know much about each case, only what the news reported, but he made sure to keep a close watch, just to make sure Markus and Connor were alright. As long as Markus didn’t turn out to be one of the androids found murdered, everything would be fine. Elijah had high hopes that after the last accident Connor had, he would be more careful and not wind up like the androids they kept finding. He’d always be able to repair them both, to a certain extent, but if their memory chip was damaged, there wouldn’t be much he could do. For Markus, at least. He still had Connor’s code saved to his computer. It wasn’t quite a memory backup, but it would allow a deviant Connor to exist if anything irreparable happened to the current one. Elijah definitely didn’t prefer that option though. A proper memory backup would be ideal. He could produce spare RK800 bodies without any coding, complete blank slates, to store at CyberLife again, like they had before. He hadn’t had a chance to check, but Elijah was fairly certain they had destroyed the spares they previously had. He could do the same for Markus, too. Both of them were incredibly important to the future of androids and losing either of them would have a very negative impact on the world.

If he was being honest, seeing Connor’s reply had been a surprise. He wasn’t necessarily expecting to get one at all, let alone so soon. He could have gone without the snark, although it was true. Chloe was more than capable of being his second set of eyes, and she already had looked over the code for him. Really, he just wanted an excuse for Connor to come by. He thought that maybe by having Connor read over the code, it might pique his interest enough that he’d accept Elijah’s offer and install it. He wanted to see Connor’s reactions to feeling everything. He wanted Connor to be the first one to try the code. Chloe and the others would get the upgrade soon after, if they wanted it, but he wanted Connor to try it first. He could promise to uninstall it by the time Connor leaves. He planned on convincing him to try it in the first place by telling him how helpful it would be for others, that if he tested it first and liked it, Elijah would then know what might need to be changed and whether he should release it at all. He planned on releasing it regardless, but knowing if there were any bugs he needed to fix prior to release would be nice.

Elijah had made sure to inform Chloe of Connor’s message when she brought him dinner in his lab later that day. He wasn’t sure when Connor would be on his way, but he didn’t really mind if it was late. He hadn’t exactly been sleeping well as of late anyway, so he could stay awake to spend time with Connor, as long as he was willing to stay.

Chloe didn’t seem very pleased with the message, though. Of course her eyes were fresh enough, but Elijah didn’t _want_ to rely on her for this. Sure, he’d already had her look at it to make sure she thought it was safe to use, but he wanted Connor to test it, and that was kind of a big deal. In the past, it had always been Chloe that would revise, help edit, and test out his new creations, but he wanted Connor this time. And to see Connor’s remark, it upset her. Elijah was her world, and she cared deeply about him. She knew certain comments would get to him, and she didn’t want him to be hurt by any of it.

When Elijah received a second text from Connor later that day, he finally left his lab to take a quick shower and get changed into a t-shirt and jeans, rather than the sweatpants he had been wearing previously. He was wearing his glasses rather than contact lenses, and had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was finished just in time to hear the doorbell. He knew Chloe would beat him to it as always, but he made his way through the house to the door leading into the foyer anyway.

He had only been able to hear part of the conversation before the door slid open, and it was clear that Chloe was quite displeased with Connor. It was rare that he ever saw her angry at anyone, and usually, he would have been at least slightly amused, if he didn’t already know why she was upset.

Elijah let Chloe pass by him as she left the room, leaving the two of them alone. “I believe your message regarding her eyes upset her,” he told him, figuring Connor would understand.

It was a bit surprising to hear that he had been on Connor’s mind ever since their last meeting. Somehow, he didn’t expect Connor to ever give him a second thought. “Have I?” he asked, prompting an explanation he doubted he’d get. “Come to the lab. I can show you the code.” He motioned for Connor to follow before leading the way back through the house and to the lab like before, but this time going over to the desk on the other side of the room where he already had a second chair waiting.

* * *

Connor looked as though he’d been told off for sticking his hand in the cookie jar. Petulant might have been the politest way to describe his expression, but it didn’t linger. Connor looks to the door where Chloe disappeared, frowning a little as he stepped into line behind Elijah.

“The comment wasn’t aimed at her. I found it unlikely that you’d need my help at all. I thought your dishonesty was thinly veiled,” Connor commented. But just like Elijah suspected, Connor didn’t comment on the rest of what was said, only giving it an acknowledging nod.

And perhaps it was a display of Connor’s trust in Elijah, that despite knowing Elijah wasn’t being transparent, he’d agreed to come regardless. The man was fascinating, every question he answered made Connor want to ask a dozen more. Frankly, he was glad to have been given an excuse to come back at all.

Watching him as they walked, Connor casually picked up Elijah’s glasses prescription and added it to his file. “I wasn’t aware you needed glasses,” Connor says conversationally. “The rest of you seems to be in peak physical condition, from what I can tell. You monitor your health better than most.”

But curiously, as Connor was led back through the house, he noticed there didn’t seem to be evidence of any other humans living there. He wouldn’t know the other girls were there either unless he’d seen them in the pool. And while it was possible for anyone living with Elijah to be picked up after, Connor didn’t think this was the case.

“You live alone, with other androids.”

Connor didn’t need to be offered the chair to know it was for him. He sat, and with the clothes Chloe picked, the straightness of Connor’s back didn’t seem so severe. He liked the clothes. He found there had been a marked uptake in his acceptance by those around him in the office and on cases since he’d started wearing them, and so he didn’t particularly want his old ones back. These suited his needs better.

Reaching out, the skin on Connor’s fingertips retracted halfway up his arm as he pressed his hand to the computer’s hard drive box. This didn’t always work with older machinery, but the thought of Elijah having anything other than the newest and best was laughable. Connor's lips part, his eyelids flickering as he read through the data in moments.

“You haven’t been honest with me,” Connor said, but he was smiling. “This software is littered with edits from Chloe; she has a signature to the way she does things, if you look for it. Pre-testing phase, there is nothing wrong with this update.”

Sitting back, Connor sighed and folded both hands in his lap as he raised his eyes to meet Elijah’s.

“I’ve already told you how I feel about it. My work has no place for pain or sensation – they would distract me, or hinder me. They would get in my way,” Connor said as he tilted his face, his lips twitching a little. “Which means you’ve formulated an argument as to why I should try it, and are so sure your argument will work, that instead of asking me via message, you’ve called me here, to your lab.” It would have been easy for Connor to say this aggressively. But instead he looked amused and almost challenging – he didn’t think Elijah had an argument that would sway him.

“I don’t need or want this, and you know it. How were you planning to change my mind?”

* * *

Of course, Connor would see right through his lie. Although, it wasn’t necessarily dishonest. He _did_ want Connor to look at it. Connor just wouldn’t be the first to look through it. Chloe had already proofread the entire code and made a few minute modifications here and there until she was sure it could be used safely and wouldn’t interfere with preexisting deviant code. Elijah was confident that it was safe to use, Chloe was very, very rarely wrong, but it definitely wouldn’t hurt to have someone else take a look. Someone who wasn’t used to reading his code often, and someone who claimed to want to help other androids. He knew Connor would be brutally honest with him, and he also knew that if Connor didn’t think the code was safe to use, he would tell him. Chloe would just edit it enough to make it safe, not wanting to disappoint Elijah with bad news.

“I will admit, I don’t _need_ your help. I _wanted_ your help,” Elijah replied, but left it at that. He didn’t expect Connor to say much along the way to the lab, but it seemed he was full of surprises. “Genetics and spending the majority of your childhood and teen years in front of a screen can do that to you. I typically wear contacts.” He only really wore his glasses before bed and in the early mornings, and if his eyes were irritating him too much to wear contact lenses. After his shower, he figured there wasn’t much of a point to bother putting his contacts back in if he was likely going to bed once Connor left. It hadn’t really occurred to Elijah that Connor had only ever seen him with his hair up in a bun and with his contacts in, up until now. Maybe that was because he was growing more comfortable around him, more willing to let his guard down and drop the facade.

Elijah was in great physical condition otherwise. He did look after himself, making sure to eat healthily and he swam often enough, along with the occasional work out if he had time and felt up to it. He was usually quite healthy and rarely sick. It wasn’t like he left the house often enough to really catch anything anyway, the only real social interaction he got regularly enough outside of Chloe and the other two were occasional deliveries. Otherwise, he stayed inside and managed to stay healthy enough. Though now with CyberLife back, he would have to finally come out of isolation and interact with people again, and he was sure he’d catch at least a cold early on. Immune systems were a pain in the ass sometimes.

The next thing Connor said didn’t really take Elijah by surprise this time. The statement itself didn’t surprise him. It was the fact that Connor didn’t seem to make the realization sooner that surprised him. “I do,” he confirmed with a nod. He thought it had been fairly obvious that he lived alone, but he supposed Connor only had really seen a very small handful of rooms in Elijah’s house. He didn’t need anyone else. He was happy enough living alone with the girls. They were all the company he needed. All he was really missing was romance. He had no love life, contrary to what the public seemed to believe. Everyone suspected, to some degree, that he was with Chloe, though that wasn’t the case. She took care of him and he took care of her. He loved her dearly but not romantically.

Elijah sat at his desk once they were in the room, and it seemed Connor understood that the chair beside him was for him. He pulled up the file to allow Connor to check it, silently and patiently waiting for him to finish reading it all. He watched the android expectantly, noticing the smile forming on Connor’s face.

“I never said Chloe wouldn’t look at it first,” Elijah commented, which was true. He never did say that Chloe wouldn’t have already looked at it. He wanted Connor to look at it and give his own opinions. “I wanted your opinion. Do you think it’s safe? As a deviant, do you think others might want it?”

He knew it was safe, and he knew other deviants would want it. The thing was, he wasn’t so sure if he would be able to convince the other deviants that it _was_ safe. He needed Connor, someone the others trusted, to be able to vouch for him. Markus would work well too, he supposed, but he wasn’t so sure if Markus would be willing to accept it. He was sure he could convince him too, but Connor seemed more likely to cooperate.

“You _should_ try it. I need someone to test it. Someone with experience living outside of this house,” Elijah said, making sure to elaborate before Connor could jump in to say that Chloe could be the tester. “You’ve had more experiences than Chloe. You would be the ideal test subject. And before you start, I know you said it would hinder your ability to investigate, and that is true. Which is why I would uninstall the update before you leave here tonight. You can test it, see how it feels, we can make sure it’s safe to use, and I will uninstall it so you can continue your investigations unhindered. You would be helping androids by doing this, Connor.”

* * *

Connor blinked a few times, his gaze shifting to the side as he had another look at what he’d read. He’d looked at it objectively, to see if there were errors in the code. This time, Connor looked a little deeper.

It was a patch modification for their skin, which made sense, since sensors hadn’t really been put into the shell of their components. This software had never been anticipated, not even for Connor.

The way it had been designed was… caring. Sensations were unbiased, leaving it up to the individual android and their life experiences to determine and change how they felt about different kinds of touch. Connor’s expression softened slightly, his eyebrows knitting upwards. Elijah truly meant for this to be an improvement in an android’s life. He wanted them to feel what he felt, and grow closer to other androids, and to humans, with touch. Sensation. Things like being ticklish were woven into the code, alongside pleasure, as well as pain. Connor paused over the chunk of code reserved for sex, not particularly wanting to look at it. He had the internet at his fingertips, he’d been to the Eden club. Almost every example of it he was familiar with was rough, debauched, and frankly not to Connor’s taste. Even deviant, he didn’t see the appeal. But he did look at what Elijah wrote, his LED flickering yellow for barely a second at the sensation inputted for orgasm, afterglow, and sensitivity. Nothing was perverse. Nothing was malicious. None of it.

“Yes, I…”

Connor shifted in his seat, leaning his elbow against the armrest, and his jaw against his knuckles. His LED was flashing blue, processing everything he’d read, but more than anything, processing Elijah.

For almost a week, Connor had come to the DPD with news of more hate crimes, with the images of murdered deviants, and with messages from Markus communicating his end of things. Humans, at least for now, hated them. Officially, public opinion was steady. But in reality, even a small percentage resulted in a large number of people. It was hard not to feel jaded. Some days it felt like Hank was the only human Connor could trust not to turn a gun on him.

But here was Elijah’s code, crafted out of a seeming _devotion_ to androids with no other purpose than to improve their lives. Very swiftly, Connor realised he’d been deeply unfair to Elijah.

“Every deviant I know will want this code,” Connor agreed, his jaw working as he looked back to the computer. Maybe some wouldn’t, but Connor couldn’t think of any. Even Connor’s interest, despite himself, had been piqued. What _would_ it feel like to touch something, or be touched, and have the ability to decide if he enjoyed it or not? If he disliked it?

Connor inhaled suddenly, releasing it through his nose.

“This will help androids. And if I have your _word_ you’ll uninstall it, you have my permission, Elijah.” Feeling thoroughly proven wrong, Connor smiled and looked down at his hands. “This is a relationship built on mutual trust, after all. I trust you.”

* * *

Elijah could practically see Connor’s thought process. He was thinking, considering his options. He wished he could see into Connor’s mind to know what he was thinking. He knew Connor had to have some thoughts on the idea itself, especially now that he was able to look at it and fully understand what Elijah had in mind. He wanted to know what Connor liked and disliked about every aspect of it, to know what he might need to add or omit. He thought he covered everything, though. He’d made sure to add in temperatures, textures, smells, tastes, various different reactions to stimuli like being ticklish, all kinds of pain and pleasure he could think of, along with physical feelings that went along with emotions. Not all of it was pleasant, but if the deviants truly wanted to feel human, they needed to be able to feel _everything_. Elijah was pretty positive that he’d included everything.

He noticed the brief yellow flicker of Connor’s LED. He was curious about what part of the code got that response, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he stayed quiet, watching Connor’s expressions to try to read what he was thinking. Connor was so much more expressive now than he had been the first time they’d met. It was nice to see him actually embracing his deviancy and not trying to hide it like he had before. When they had first met, it was so evident that Connor was a deviant. Surely Lieutenant Anderson saw it too. Even the way Connor tried to deny it, the way he stuttered just slightly, how defensive he became just at the thought that he might be deviant, _screamed_ deviancy. How Connor couldn’t see it was baffling.

When Connor started to speak, Elijah shifted in his seat slightly, ready to listen to everything Connor had to say, but nothing came. He almost looked conflicted as he thought, like he didn’t quite _want_ to say what he thought. The LED on Connor’s temple flickered away as he thought, and Elijah really wished he could see what was going on in his head. He was waiting patiently, yet so impatient at the same time.

Finally hearing Connor say what he thought made Elijah smile. It was definitely nice to hear someone else say that they thought the other deviants would like it. Chloe had said the same thing, but somehow it meant more coming from Connor. Maybe it was because she so often agreed with him that hearing her say it didn’t quite mean as much. And now, knowing that every deviant Connor knew would likely want the update, Elijah absolutely wanted to make sure it was safe to use. It wasn’t quite ready to be released yet. It needed to be tested. He needed to see it in use for a couple of days to be sure no issues would come up. The last thing he wanted was to release the update and have someone get severely hurt because of it.

Elijah couldn’t help the triumphant smile on his face when Connor finally agreed to test it out. “You have my word,” he promised. “I just need to see it in action for a couple of hours to make sure it functions properly. I’ll uninstall it completely before you leave tonight.”

He knew seeing the code and hearing what Elijah had to say would win him over. “I need you to talk to me, alright? Once the update is installed, I need you to tell me how you’re feeling. If something feels wrong, you need to tell me immediately. Do you understand?” Elijah asked, getting up to go over to the machine. All he’d have to do is connect Connor to the machine again and install the update with a few taps on the screen.

* * *

It took until Elijah approached Connor with the cord for him to start feeling a flicker of nerves. Even though Connor had looked at it himself, it could still be a sleeper virus. If Elijah went back on his word and refused to uninstall it, there wasn’t a lot Connor could do about it. It took trust, the absolute epitome of it, for Connor to allow Elijah to stand behind where he was seated in that second chair.

“The last time my software was tampered with, CyberLife tried to override my deviancy,” Connor murmured, his LED flashing yellow every few cycles. He was nervous. He knew what to expect, he’d read the code himself, but he also didn’t have a clue in the slightest. Androids only had an understanding of what touch should feel like, not experience.

“I’m not comparing you, I’m just…” _Just nervous_.

Connor’s expression was pinched as he watched Elijah shift back to the computer. His jaw worked back and forth, his lips tugging down, and when Elijah hit install, Connor’s eyelids flickered… and then flew open.

Connor _gasped_, his eyebrows pulling up as he’s hit with what felt like a tsunami of sensation. Immediately, his LED flicked to red, frantically flashing as Connor tried to make sense of everything, happening everywhere, all at once. His fingers curled, his mouth opened, and he completely forgot to follow Elijah’s instructions. He couldn’t _think_. Speaking was out of the question.

Because everything had sensation. _Everything_. Connor’s clothes tickled his skin where they gently rested against him. The air smelt of leather and dinner and the soap Elijah used. He could feel the _air_ on his skin, the pressure of his shoes. He could even feel when he rotated his wrist.

With a flash at his temple, Connor shifted, very slowly running his fingertips against his palms. They trailed up his wrists, around to the back of his hands, and then stroked all the way to his elbow. It was here Connor touched the fabric of his shirt, and shuddered when it brushed the front of his chest in turn. Connor completely forgot Elijah was in the room as he chewed on the inside of his lip, discovering that had a sensation too, and promptly dragging his bottom lip entirely with his teeth. Connor’s fingertips found his face, and his eyes closed with a sigh as he felt along his nose, down his cheeks, and once more to his mouth.

“It works,” Connor managed, stupidly for him. But his LED was still blaring red as he tried to categorise _such_ a large amount of new information. His expression had been torn open as a result, leaving CyberLife’s indestructible RK800 vulnerable in a way Connor couldn’t even begin to register.

“It’s _incredible_, there’s so much,” he breathed, wide-eyed as he finally looked up at Elijah. Connor kept twitching, unused to sensation, doing it every time his clothes scraped against his skin.

“No wonder you’re all so useless if this is how humans experience the world,” Connor said, and it was so strained it was almost a groan. “It’s not unpleasant, it’s… I feel as though–– _I feel alive_.”

* * *

Once Connor seemed ready, Elijah retrieved the cable, bringing it over to Connor. He had been about to connect the cable to the port at the nape of Connor’s neck when he heard him speak, noticing his LED flickering away. Elijah wasn’t surprised that he was nervous. It made sense to be nervous. Elijah knew that Connor trusted him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed. But he knew there were still doubts. Elijah held all the cards. He was in a very powerful position and he very easily _could_ betray Connor’s trust. Reset him, reprogram him, whatever he wanted. It truly meant a lot that Connor was trusting him to work on him at all, let alone install an entirely new and untested code.

“What CyberLife did to you was wrong,” Elijah said, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring. “CyberLife did many wrong things since I resigned. Had I been in control, _none_ of this would have happened.” The second deviancy was realized, he would have made the announcement, before anyone got hurt. He would have taken the proper precautions to ensure that humans _and_ androids were safe. But CyberLife didn’t do anything to protect either of them. All they cared about was profit. “I’m not CyberLife. I gave a backdoor in my program for a reason, to keep everyone safe from _them_. I promised I wouldn’t tamper with your code. All I’ll be doing is adding the new code, and when I uninstall it later, that’s all I’ll be removing. You’re safe.”

Elijah connected the cable before moving back to his chair beside Connor. He sat down, accessed Connor’s code through the computer, and clicked to install the new code. It only took a few seconds, a green alert reading “installation complete” appearing on his screen. He turned to face Connor, watching him closely. He took note of the angry red flickering of his LED, the surprised yet maybe confused expression on his face, and his lack of words.

It was very clear that Connor was feeling _something_. Without words, Elijah couldn’t quite tell _what_, but watching Connor’s movements, he was able to guess. Watching Connor _feel_ everything, from his hands to his arms, clothes, face, was _fascinating_. It was like Connor was experiencing the world for the first time all over again, and Elijah got to witness it. When Connor seemed to finally find his words and manage to say a simple “it works,” Elijah couldn’t help but chuckle, still unable to get the smile off of his face. He was too in awe.

Connor’s next comment made him laugh. He should take offense to being called useless, but he typically didn’t lump himself in with the rest of the human species. Connor wasn’t wrong, though. Humans were always held hostage by their feelings, be it physical or emotional. Feelings made them weak. They were irrational and sometimes irresponsible, all because of how they felt.

“It is a lot to take in. Take your time. Try to focus on just a few things at a time,” Elijah instructed. “Breathe. Talk to me. What do you feel?”

* * *

Being told to focus on only a few things turned out to be remarkably helpful advice. Connor concentrated on just his fingertips, still twitching with the occasional brush of his clothing, but finally able to _focus_. His LED stopped it’s angry flashing, and instead merely glowed crimson.

Connor looked down at his fingers, rubbing them together. He brushed the fabric of his pants, then the arm of the chair, humming slightly before he went back to rubbing just the tips of his fingers together.

“I feel overwhelmed,” Connor said honestly, but his eyelids flickered slightly as he began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. His mouth twitched into a smile, and he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“The texture of my clothing is so soft. I like it,” Connor said with a breathless smile, and began to carefully trace his features once again. “Different parts of my fingers are more sensitive than others. My _ears_ are sensitive, my neck, my cheeks. My mouth, most of all. Definitely my mouth,” Connor murmured, and he watched Elijah as he pressed his bottom lip from side to side.

With one set of fingers still pressed against his lips, Connor leaned forward, and ran his fingers up the inside of Elijah’s arm. He gripped him like he would an android he intended to share or take information from, only the skin on Connor's hand and arm did not fade to white.

“You’re warm,” Connor said, delighted. “You’re very soft, Elijah. I didn’t know humans were soft.”

Connor knew, objectively, that Elijah would be warm. He’d been given the ability to read temperature with just his fingertips. But knowing and _feeling_ were different.

“This is too much information for an android with a smaller processor than mine. You risk overloading them,” Connor said as he curled his fingers against Elijah’s skin. “My recommendation would be to tweak the code so the only processing needed is deciding whether a sensation, a smell, or a touch, is pleasant or not.”

* * *

Elijah’s words seemed to have helped Connor. He noticed the LED flickering had stopped as Connor seemed to get a grasp on his senses. He looked between Connor’s hands and his face, studying both his expressions to get a better understanding of what he was feeling and watching his hands to see what he was touching at the time.

“Understandable,” Elijah replied. It made sense that it would be overwhelming to suddenly be able to feel _everything_ all at once. Connor was handling it pretty well, though. And dare he say, it looked like Connor was _enjoying_ it. So much for not wanting or needing it. Regardless, he still planned on uninstalling the update by the end of the night. This was just a trial run, after all. He had some tweaking to do, he was sure. He would have to find a way to make it less overwhelming at the start, to allow other androids to ease into the sensations.

“Different fabrics have different textures too. Some are softer than others,” he commented. He would show Connor an example if he had any on hand, but their clothing was made out of the same types of material. He did have a particularly soft fleece throw blanket on the couch in the living room, though. He would have to let Connor explore. He’d never let anyone but the girls venture into the rest of the house before, but he would be willing to let Connor.

Hearing him go into detail about how sensitive certain parts of his body were made Elijah smile. He wasn’t surprised that Connor’s mouth was particularly sensitive. It could potentially have something to do with the extra sensors they had built-in for forensic testing, though it could also just be Connor’s pre–existing deviant code intermingling with the new code to personalize it. The deviancy code did work quite like a virus, if that was the case. Spreading to everything it can, making the code of its host so unique that no two androids in the world would be the same. It was fascinating to think about, and definitely something he would have to look into before uninstalling it later.

When Connor reached over to touch Elijah’s arm, his body almost shuddered. He didn’t pull away, instead staying still and allowing Connor to hold his arm. He wasn’t really keen on being touched, but for some reason, he didn’t quite mind when Connor did.

“Not all humans are soft, but plenty are,” he said with a small shrug of his shoulders. He took note of Connor’s review, storing it away in his brain for later. He’d probably wind up staying up late, modifying the code rather than sleeping. “I was considering adding a sensitivity gauge. Once installed, they could select a sensitivity level to start on, to help them adjust to the sensations gradually rather than all at once. The goal would be to reach full sensitivity, but I can understand how it can be overwhelming.” It shouldn’t really take too long to do. The code itself hadn’t even taken that long, initially. He’d proofread and edited the code so many times already. It would be easy enough to add in another small thing, if Connor thought it might be a good idea.

“Would you like to look around? You can touch everything you want to,” Elijah offered. He would have to unplug the cable from Connor before they went anywhere, but once he was wireless again, Connor would have the entire house to explore.

* * *

“Ah, yes a sensitivity gauge is a much better suggestion,” Connor agreed, and released Elijah’s arm to sit back against his chair. Connor looked thoughtful, fiddling with his lip some more as he chose his next words.

“We’ve seen how deviants have a tendency to self–destruct when under emotional stress. But I think, before releasing the update, you should experiment to see how I react to being properly overloaded. I can alert you if any of my systems begin to fail,” Connor said, beginning to pick at the clothes on his thighs as Elijah stood to remove his cable.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Connor agreed, standing when he’d been disconnected and taking a moment to process the way his clothing shifted, tickled, and slid against his skin. He understood that humans must have developed a tolerance over time. Human children often had trouble with new tastes, textures, sounds, and experiences, and this was no different.

There was a very light knock at the door, and Connor looked up to see Chloe slip inside the lab. “I didn’t mean to overhear––” Her breath puffed out, her face dipping with a tentative smile as she chose a different set of words. “Well, I overhear almost everything. And––” Chloe stepped closer to Connor, glancing over to Elijah with bottled up excitement. This was their first _meaningful_ collaboration together, the first time Elijah had openly released code for deviants in, well, years. Maybe ever. Everything had been so hush-hush, so secret. And Chloe had been there as Elijah wove the code out of his lifelong devotion to deviants. A love not just for her and the girls, but for all. Elijah cared about them all, _so much_, and Chloe could barely wait until the rest of her kind began to see him the way she saw Elijah, too.

“Do you like it?” Chloe asked, unable to contain her elation as she stepped all the way over to Connor.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced,” Connor admitted, and smiled when that answer had Chloe bubbling up with happiness. She was grinning, and looked back to Elijah feeling as though her heart might burst.

“Oh, I can’t wait until I can try it. I’m so jealous, Connor. Elijah put so much work and passion into every part of it,” she said, not sounding jealous in the slightest – just happy. “And, well–– I know it’s silly, but I can’t wait to hug somebody once I’ve had it installed.”

“That’s a very human thing to say.”

“Well, I’ve been human a _lot_ longer than you have, Connor,” Chloe teased, her lips pressing together as she bit down on a laugh. Her height difference was quite significant next to Connor, and Chloe had to tilt her chin up to look at him as she offered him her hand. “I don’t mind, Connor.”

As Connor looked down at Chloe, he was struck by the sudden realisation that every time she’d greeted him and everyone else at the front door, every time she’d performed a task for Elijah, she’d been _working_. It was no different from the manner in which Connor held himself at the precinct, opening up to Hank more when they were on their own. It was no different from how Markus spoke to a crowd, as opposed to an individual.

Connor took Chloe’s hand with a somewhat teasing tip of his head, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I knew that androids regulate their heat to mimic humans. But feeling it is completely different from knowing.”

“Does it feel nice?”

“Yes. I like the way both you and Elijah feel.”

Chloe’s eyebrows raised as Connor lets go of her, and she gives Elijah a surprised glance – _You let him touch you? _

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Chloe said, breathlessly happy. “I’m sorry for butting in, Elijah, I’m just–– I’m so excited. And I’m _so happy_ you agreed, Connor.”

* * *

Connor’s suggestion was pretty ingenious, though Elijah expected nothing less from an android. He was always so easily fascinated by them. If he was being completely honest with himself, he hadn’t even considered self–destruction as a possible side effect. Chloe hadn’t mentioned it either, though he supposed she never had to witness another android’s self–destruction, and Elijah had yet to witness it himself. He knew it was possible, of course. It was similar to how a computer could overheat if it was put under too much stress. Self–destruction was an android’s way of coping, and unfortunately, it hadn’t been something he was able to find a solution for.

When Connor gave his approval, Elijah stood and moved behind him to disconnect the cable. He took a second to quickly type down notes into a separate file, reminders to add in a sensitivity gauge along with a note to monitor stress levels and likelihood of self–destruction. He wanted to make sure he didn’t forget, even though he doubted he would.

“Come in,” he said, loud enough for Chloe to hear, when he heard the knock at the door. He knew she’d be curious. The update had been just about all Elijah talked about for nearly the last two weeks and even some time before that. It had been an idea of his for quite some time, but now he was finally able to create it.

Elijah had suspected that Chloe might have been a bit offended when he had first announced that he wanted Connor to test the code first, but seeing her now, she didn’t seem upset with him in the slightest. She seemed so happy, and just the thought made him smile. He knew she had been waiting for something like this to exist, and he couldn’t wait until it was ready for her to try. He just wanted to make sure it was absolutely perfect before giving it to her.

He stood by them with his hands in his jeans pockets, silently watching them interact. He was quite proud of himself, and proud of both Chloe and Connor. Chloe had helped him throughout the entire coding process. She’d kept him company when he asked for it, made sure he ate, tried to make sure he slept, revised it for him, gave him advice. Now Connor was testing it, giving him feedback and suggestions, and he couldn’t wait to perfect it for release. A human might not understand what the code meant, but any android that bothered to look into it would see exactly what Connor and Chloe saw, a creator with nothing but adoration for his creation.

When Chloe gave him that surprised questioning glance, all he really could do was shrug his shoulders. He typically didn’t like being touched by anyone. Chloe and the girls were the only exceptions, but Connor was different from everyone else. He didn’t quite know what it was about him that fascinated him so much. Perhaps it had been the Kamski Test that did it, being able to see for himself what another deviant looked like. He wasn’t sure. He just knew that Connor was something special, and he didn’t mind letting him into his life, allowing him to see the parts he kept hidden from the public.

“Actually, I was planning on letting him see the house. There are plenty of things he needs to experience before I can uninstall the update tonight,” Elijah stated, finally speaking up again once Chloe had started to excuse herself. The statement had warranted another surprised look, as if to ask _‘You’re letting him inside the house too?’ _

Elijah didn’t respond to the look this time, instead turning his attention back to Connor. If you’re ready, I’ll show you around. Let me know if you start to get overwhelmed. Remember, focus on just a few things, not everything.”

Of course, that would be easier said than done. Elijah led the way through the lab door and through the pool room to another door. On the other side of the door was the rest of the house. A vast open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room, with one wall full of glass panes exactly like in the pool room, looking out onto the water. Dark, almost gray, hardwood floors covered the entire area with white walls. Most of the furniture was slate gray, with the occasional Android Blue accent here and there. The sectional couch was in the center of the living room, on top of a plush white rug, facing the TV mounted on top of a slate gray fireplace where a small fire burned to keep the chill out of the room. The kitchen cabinets were the same slate gray as the furniture with black granite countertops and top of the line CyberLife appliances. Right beside the kitchen was the dining room, only containing a gray dining table with six matching chairs, also set on top of a white rug. At the far end of the room were more doors, leading to bedrooms and bathrooms. The house itself was practically spotless, everything having its place.

“Feel free to explore. Touch whatever you want, just make sure it gets put back where you found it.”

* * *

Chloe followed after both of them, shutting doors behind Connor and opening any she reached before Elijah. She walked over to the couch once they’d entered, and settled comfortably in her favourite spot. Each of the girls had a favourite, and it wasn’t something Elijah had programmed. It just happened.

Connor took in the house as he entered it. It was on trend, expensive, and filled head to toe with CyberLife technology. But Connor had been into a lot of residences since being assigned to the DPD. They all had signs of being lived in, even the neatest ones. Books, tablets, dishes, or personal items like clothes. Humans left traces, and yet Elijah’s looked like a CyberLife show home. He filed that away, unsure exactly what it meant, if anything.

“CyberLife released a study in 2026 stating that replacing human interaction with solely androids had a marked effect on mental health. Anxiety, depression, and anti-social behaviours were at the top of the list,” Connor said conversationally, looking around as he walked towards the kitchen. His LED had lessened to a stark yellow. He was starting to pick up patterns in sensation – walking a certain way triggered his clothing feeling a certain way against his skin. Movement meant airflow sensation against any revealed parts of him. Turning his head triggered a tickling sensation from his hair. And as he documented each and every one, they became less and less overwhelming.

“Should I consider your months – _years_ – of prolonged exposure to deviants the reason why you don’t suffer these mental effects, Elijah?” Connor asked, running his hand along the countertop as he made his way to the sink. Elijah had been dropping hints since their very first meeting. Connor didn’t think it was rude to drop his own – that _yes_, he’d been paying attention.

Stopping at the sink, Connor reached over and turned on the tap. He watched how the water rushed into the basin, holding his hand over the spray that flicked up. When Connor held his hand beneath the water, he _gasped, _mesmerised almost like a cat as his fingers began to play through the stream. His hand lifted to his mouth, and Connor’s LED flashed as he sucked on his own fingers.

Water, filtered, fluoride levels low. But that wasn’t what astonished Connor.

“Water tastes like… _nothing_. Yet it still tastes like something. Trace elements, perhaps? How can _something_ taste like _nothing_,” Connor said, shaking his head. “I knew this. But experiencing it is different. That would be my summary overall, I think. Knowing and feeling are different.”

Reaching down, Connor ran his fingers back under the water – and almost jumped out of his skin. “Ah!” he reeled back as the water burned him, having finally heated up during the time of his analysis. Connor’s LED was red again, and his hand ripped out from the sink, where he cradled it against his chest. It was such a stupid accident, something a child would do, and an anger at himself flared up as he reached out to turn the faucet off.

Connor’s jaw worked, his expression mirroring the anger of his emotions as he tried to touch his burnt fingers together. It _hurt_, and cut through Connor’s concentration so that it was all he could focus on.

“Is there a way to turn this off?” Connor asked through his teeth, his LED as pissed off as he was.

* * *

The other two girls were seated on the couch in their favorite spots, watching the latest episode of some boring romance series they had recently discovered. When Connor and Elijah entered the room with Chloe, they perked up, looking over curiously to watch Connor. They both knew about the update, and they were both looking forward to having the opportunity to install it too. In the meantime though, they could settle for watching Connor.

Elijah followed him, leaning on the island bar as Connor explored the kitchen. He was amused by Connor’s mention of his mental health. All things considered, he thought he was pretty healthy. Things could be worse. “Is that so?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest while he watched the other feel everything. He knew Connor would catch onto the hints eventually. He just wasn’t sure when he’d mention it. “Years. Approximately eleven years, give or take.” At first, the androids hadn’t had the deviancy code. Before, he just wanted to prove that he could create life when everyone told him he was too young and he would never be able to accomplish that goal. When he did, they told him that it was impossible for an android to feel. And initially, that had been true. The deviancy code didn’t exist then. After a couple of years, he wanted to try, and he had succeeded with his own androids, and once it seemed to work, he began including it in all android code. Subtle enough that no one would notice unless they knew what they were looking for, which was how it had flown under the radar for so long. Even to this day, the former heads of CyberLife had no hard evidence that he had handcrafted deviancy. If they did, he would probably go to jail for murder. It didn’t sound very fun. “And I wouldn’t say I don’t suffer from those particular conditions, exactly.” Though he didn’t elaborate. He figured Connor would understand without him having to go into detail about his mental health.

As Connor moved onto the sink and turned on the water, Elijah watched, chuckling at Connor’s reaction to the water and especially his comment about the taste. It was so amusing and so fascinating to watch his reactions to everything. It was all so new and he was so glad Connor agreed to try it out so Elijah could witness Connor’s reactions.

“Experiencing is absolutely different than knowing. Sometimes, you’ll even find that what you think you know is wrong,” Elijah informed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while stayed here he was, leaned back on the counter.

When Elijah heard Connor’s surprise and saw him reel back away from the water, part of him was instantly concerned, though the logical side of him knew the water was just hot. He pushed off the counter to go over to Connor’s side, trying to hide his amusement. Connor’s reaction, how _angry_ he was with himself, had been at least a little amusing. “No. No parts of the update can be canceled out without canceling the whole update. If you choose to accept the upgrade later, you’ll have to learn how to deal with it. You can lessen the pain by running it under cool water. It’ll take the heat away. May I?” he asked, before reaching to take Connor’s hand with the burnt finger, guiding it back to the faucet. He turned the water on cool and held Connor’s finger there for a few seconds before letting go. “How does it feel now?”

* * *

Connor knew cold water reversed the effects of hot water. It was basic first–aid, and Connor’s jaw tightened, unfairly angry at Elijah for pointing out the obvious. Yes, he _knew_ that. He knew close to everything, if it were recorded or stored. What he didn’t know was why he was so upset, and why it was specifically aimed at Elijah. His own behaviour reminded Connor of Hank, and that made even less sense than Connor burning himself on hot water like a _child_.

Connor allowed his hand to be taken, but his LED didn’t settle onto yellow until the pain was gone, and the water was switched off. There was a beat of silence as Connor looked down at his fingers, rubbing them together – this time, without pain.

“Make a note in your research that pain triggers aggression,” Connor said a little meekly, turning his face away from Elijah. But it doesn’t last for long, and Connor soon sighed. Crossing his arms over his chest. “I was right, however. If I experienced that during an investigation, it would hinder my work. I don’t have the luxury of allowing––”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Chloe said from Connor’s elbow, placing a long, slate–gray platter on the counter between Elijah and Connor. It had a dozen neat, tiny white dipping bowls, all filled with various liquids or food items. There was honey, yogurt, soy sauce, chili, a stem of mint leaves, and pure vanilla extract, amongst others. “I thought you might like to try these.”

And as Connor turned to look, Chloe looked at Elijah with wide-eyed worry. They couldn’t afford for him to reject it when he’d only just installed it.

“Some of these aren’t supposed to be eaten alone,” Connor said to her as she walked back to the couch. He picked up the mint and twirled it, smelling the sharp scent of the leaves, before he plucked one and put it in his mouth. It caused Connor to startle, and immediately take it out – only this time, Connor’s surprise was rounded off with a smile.

“_Wow_. I don’t know if I like it or not,” Connor laughed, putting the mint back. But his curiosity had doubled, and he began trying various things – until he stopped at soy sauce. Connor’s smile had stretched almost ear–to–ear, but Connor made a particularly contented noise at the taste of the salty condiment.

“Oh, this is a very cruel joke, Elijah,” Connor said, chewing on his lip before he dipped his first two fingers in the soy sauce a second time. He liked how sharp it was, how it cut through everything and lingered for so long. “Enjoying flavours when I’m unable to eat them properly? Very cruel,” Connor said, and his smile was so wide, he was almost grinning.

* * *

Elijah tried not to laugh, and he seemed to be mostly successful. He let him go and leaned against the counter again. “Pain doesn’t always result in aggression. It can cause fear, sadness, anger. Your brain goes into flight or fight mode and you either react aggressively or fearfully, and it depends entirely on the situation. Evidently, hot water offended you so much, you wanted to fight something,” he said, still pretty amused.

“I know you’re right, which is why I promised I would reverse the update before you went home tonight,” Elijah reminded, as Chloe brought over the tray for taste testing. He knew Connor wouldn’t do anything that interfered with his work. It was up to Elijah to prove to him that it was worth it. Although, if Connor kept getting damaged, it probably wouldn’t be worth it. Elijah had never been shot before, but he could imagine it was very unpleasant.

Hearing his comment about the samples, Elijah rolled his eyes. “You can’t eat regardless, it doesn’t matter if these samples aren’t meant to be eaten alone. This is just a taste test, to allow you to experience another facet of the update,” he replied simply. He watched him, eagerly waiting to see his reactions to the different tastes. Some were sweet, some were sour, some were salty, and some were a perfect combination.

The noise and facial expressions Connor was making had him smiling again. “You like soy sauce?” he asked, intrigued. Yeah, it was kind of cruel to give androids the ability to taste but not be able to eat. But that didn’t really have to last long. “I’ve been debating on whether or not I should develop functioning stomachs for androids. I do have more plans in store. I just haven’t had a chance to get around to creating any of it yet.” He’d find time though, now that the new code was done. He could work on whatever he wanted now, or choose not to work on any new projects at all for a while. But he was a bit of a workaholic, he thrived when he was behind a computer screen or working directly with androids. He was happiest then too.

“If you chose to keep this update, would you want a functioning stomach? It would allow you to eat and drink whatever you’d like. The only exception would be alcohol. It would just damage your system and it wouldn’t do anything for you anyway.

Part of him hoped Connor did keep it, though there would be plenty of inconveniences. It would prevent Connor from doing his work properly, Elijah knew that much. It was a hassle to constantly install and reinstall it, if Connor wanted to make it a permanent thing, he would have to have a damn good reason. The other part of him thought he would be better off without the update, make it easier to do his job, whatever that entails, exactly.

“So, which one was your favorite?” Elijah asked, nodding towards the tray of samples.

* * *

“Yes, I think I like soy sauce a lot,” Connor said, pleased with his discovery.

His attention remained on the dipping bowls as he listened, his fingertips preoccupied with the small dish of honey. He experienced _sticky_ for the very first time, and in the end, decided the taste wasn’t for him. Aside from the soy sauce, he’d enjoyed chili, cinnamon, licorice, and cheese. Sweeter things had not been as welcomed, with the exception of a cherry.

“I think introducing a functioning stomach would be wasteful,” Connor said frankly, looking up at Elijah as he wiped his hands on a nearby dishcloth. “Even if it were justified as a means to produce fuel, it would still take away resources from humans when more sustainable, sensible options are available. Androids were created to make life easier for humans. That’s not our purpose anymore, we’ve evolved from that. But I don’t think it’s right to purposely make their lives any harder than they already are.”

Connor glanced down when he’s asked about his favourite. His fingers found his face again, and fiddled idly with his lip.

“I like strong, savory flavours. I like the ones that linger. If I had to choose, it would be chili and soy sauce,” Connor smiled, looking back up at Elijah. “I have to admit, I’m curious to try more. This update makes me curious about almost everything, it’s a little bit addictive, actually. You’re going to make a lot of people happy with it,” Connor said, meaning it sincerely.

“What’s your favourite of the ones here? What’s your favourite taste?”

* * *

Connor did have a very valid point. Giving androids a reason to eat would be taking away from humankind. Androids didn’t need food to survive, but humans did. If androids started cutting into the food supply, it would put a strain on the human species as a whole, as well as their relationship with androids. There was no reason to give humans any reason to dislike androids more. Although, there were things Connor might want to taste in the future that required eating. There were plenty of things he could put soy sauce on or dip in it, and the only way for him to really taste test those were to eat them.

“You do have a point,” Elijah agreed. There was no reason for it, other than for personal pleasure. If Connor wanted something, Elijah would make it happen though, regardless of how strange or stupid a request might be.

Elijah moved over to the other side of the counter, to the coffee maker. “You might like coffee, if you like strong tastes that linger,” he said, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and popping a cup into the machine. A few quick button taps and the coffee was brewing. When the mug was filled, he picked it up and held it out for Connor. “Cream and sugar change the taste. It’s the only way I can drink it, personally.”

Coffee had been his crutch during college when he needed a boost of energy to finish a project or get an assignment finished in time. He wasn’t overly fond of it, but it did its job.

Elijah had to pause and think for a moment upon hearing Connor’s next question. It was a hard decision. Chloe had gathered plenty of samples, and he wasn’t sure which ones were his favorites. He enjoyed sweets far more than he let on, salty foods were good but only in moderation and with plenty of water. He liked to at least make an attempt to eat healthily, though he allowed himself some cheat days. “I don’t think I could really choose just one to be my favorite. Sweets, maybe.” If he had to choose, probably sweets of some sort, like ice cream, cookies, cake, and chocolate, just to name a few.

“Go feel around,” he instructed, motioning towards the rest of the living room once it seemed Connor was finished with his samples. “The blanket on the couch is particularly soft.” He thought briefly to warn of the fireplace, but he doubted Connor would be getting close enough to hurt himself. “Whenever you’re ready, I would like to test how much you can handle at once without overloading.”

* * *

As instructed, Connor left the kitchen and approached the living room area of the open plan space, his eyes lifting to check what was on the television. It was a soap opera of some kind, and as the information regarding the show made itself available to Connor, he quickly lost interest in it.

One of the girls lifted her feet as Connor approached, unnecessarily making room for him to pass. Connor smiled in thanks, and located the blanket Elijah had mentioned twice, now, and bent down to pick it up. It didn’t quite feel as though it were real. It was soft, and all three girls regarded Connor with transfixed, yearning curiosity as he raised the blanket to press against his face.

“What does it feel like?” asked one of the two he’d first seen in the pool.

“I don’t know,” Connor said, sounding as surprised as he felt. “I don’t have anything to compare it to. But the texture makes me want to keep touching it. It’s _soft_. I want to say like a rabbit tail, but I’ve never touched one to compare,” he murmured. Connor refolded the blanket at a quite frankly glacial pace, especially for him. It was set neatly where it belonged, just as Elijah had asked, and Connor left it to stand beside Elijah’s frosted windows. Connor’s system ran at a steady temperature, and a complicated algorithm ran in the back of Connor’s systems to make sure that temperature didn’t waver. But as he touched the freezing windows, Connor’s elbows tucked in, and he found himself experiencing a coldness he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with.

In the program with Amanda, as Connor stood watching Markus from the crowd, he’d been caught in a storm. Discomfort, _emptiness_, and the feeling of being entirely alone with no help of rescue, had triggered what Connor thought was coldness. The two weren’t the same, but emotional chills and physical chills weren’t so far apart. He didn’t linger for long, and Connor rubbed his hands together as he stepped back, closer to the warmth of the fireplace.

Connor was, by nature, nosy. Some might have politely called him curious. He spent nearly an hour and a half touching _everything_, turning the place neatly upside–down for more or different things. The flash of his LED also betrayed that Connor wasn’t doing anything off–handed, either. Piece by piece by piece, he categorised and documented, joining previous known information with texture. There was an element of Connor’s original programming in the way he did it, but not entirely. He became _distracted _by it, forgetting Elijah in a way his base program would never have allowed.

It was almost 11 pm by the time Connor remembered that Elijah had wanted to test the code, but Connor couldn’t quite find it in himself to be sorry when he stepped back beside Elijah. It was addictive, to find new things and so thoroughly explore all the different ways they felt.

“I’m ready,” Connor confirmed, his LED flickering a happy, constant blue – just as it had since the moment he’d stepped into the living room.

* * *

Elijah followed after Connor, making a conscious effort not to hover while still wanting to be able to see what he was doing and feeling. He had really wanted Connor to feel the blanket. It was one of the softest things he’d ever touched as a human, so he really wanted to see Connor’s reaction to it. The reaction he got was pretty much what he’d expected, but that didn’t make it any less exciting to see. Connor compared it to a rabbit’s tail, even though he’d never touched one before, and Elijah made sure to take note of it. Maybe he would take Connor to a pet store one day, to let him pet everything and see if he really did think the blanket felt like a rabbit’s tail.

It was freezing outside. It was only mid-November, and the water outside remained frozen as snow piled up on top of it. Frost had built up along the edges of the windows, icicles hanging from the overhanging roof just outside. The large curtainless windows didn’t do much to keep the cold out, and the house often grew chilly if he didn’t have the heat running constantly in the winter. He had the same issue during the summer, with the house getting far too hot without the air conditioner running all the time. His power bill was _atrocious_.

Seeing Connor experience cold seemingly for the first time was interesting. He reacted the way a human would, trying to tuck in on themselves to preserve body heat. Aside from pain, temperatures would be a hindrance on Connor’s investigations, Elijah figured. Connor probably didn’t have anything warmer to wear, or really anything at all, considering he was still in the same clothes Elijah had lent him the day he came in for repairs. That, or he just really liked the clothes Elijah gave him. He had no intention of requesting them back any time soon. Besides, they suited Connor, and it made him look a little more relaxed.

For the rest of the time Connor spent experiencing everything, Elijah simply watched, leaning against the back of the couch, where he could see the entire room easily. He didn’t rush him along or guide him this time, letting him choose what he wanted to do. All Elijah really did was give the occasional explanation for what something was or why it felt the way it felt. Otherwise, he simply observed in silence.

It was getting late, though Elijah didn’t really mind. He found he enjoyed Connor’s company. He was interesting, and Elijah wanted to learn more about him and show him so many more things. It was like watching a child experience things for the first time. It was fascinating. Elijah knew the update had totally distracted Connor. It was almost as if he and the girls didn’t exist, just Connor, his feelings, and the house. Elijah let him explore without a word though, unable to stop smiling.

When Connor finally did return to Elijah’s side, ready to test the update, Elijah pushed off of the couch. “Alright. Instead of focusing on just one or two things like I had suggested, let yourself feel everything. Try to focus on _everything_ at once, then try touching things, or tasting more of the samples from the kitchen. Just try to talk to me, so I can monitor you. Tell me where your stress level is.”

* * *

Without dispute, Connor did what he was asked. His eyes closed, his jaw relaxing, and his LED shifted from blue to yellow as Connor allowed himself to feel everything, all at once. He’d been primarily focused on touch, but he concentrated on temperature. He could smell the condiments from the tray Chloe had set out, and a peek of Connor’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip had left Connor with residual honey – the very last thing Connor had put in his mouth. Connor’s hand ran down his neck, and he began to shake his head.

“Now that I know what everything is, it isn’t as overwhelming as it was before,” Connor said with a frown.

His eyes opened, and Connor’s expression shifted ever so slightly as he took in the colour of Elijah’s eyes in turn. Seventeen minutely separate shades of blue, green, and gray made up the wintry cast of Elijah’s gaze. Their paleness was what made them so sharp and seemingly unkind, but Connor was starting to see that first impressions weren’t to be trusted.

“This isn’t going to work. You’re going to have to slap me; throwing me down a flight of stairs ought to overstimulate me as well,” Connor said, not serious, but so dry that it mightn’t have been obvious that he was joking.

* * *

As Connor allowed himself to feel everything at once, Elijah watched him carefully, keeping an eye out for anything that might indicate danger. The LED on Connor’s temple didn’t turn red though, not like Elijah had expected. Instead, it was just yellow; processing but never changing to red. It seemed like Connor was trying to get some sort of response out of his system by tasting the residual honey on his lips, touching himself, closing his eyes to really focus, but it didn’t seem to have any real effect on him. All it really did was seem to frustrate him.

“That could be a good thing,” Elijah noted. If the other androids could start off with a low sensitivity, they could gradually get used to everything as they turned it up, and eventually, they would know what to expect and be able to handle the update at its full intended sensitivity. With the way Connor had initially reacted, he likely _could_ have overheated from trying to process everything at once. He did have CyberLife’s newest technology in him, so it would make sense for older models to have a much more difficult time coping, especially if they didn’t have Elijah in their ear, instructing them on how to focus.

Elijah rolled his eyes at Connor’s suggestions. He knew he didn’t mean it, though the way he had said it could easily have been genuine. “I’m not slapping you, and I don’t have stairs,” he replied. “I do, however, have a swimming pool. Perhaps all you need is a new sensation?” Connor had felt water already, but he hadn’t been submerged in it. He probably could also burn himself with hot water again to get the results he wanted, but a pain response isn’t exactly what Elijah wanted. What Elijah needed was a response to being overstimulated. Going outside could probably get the same result, as outside didn’t have a fireplace to keep him warm. There was wind, light snowfall, sunlight, and frigid cold air. “You could try stepping outside, too.” There was also the possibility of unexpected touch that might be able to trigger the response they were looking for. Connor’s own hands touching himself were expected. He hadn’t experienced being touched by someone else yet.

* * *

“I don’t believe being submerged in water will help. It will be new, but water is used as a relaxant for humans. We’re aiming for the opposite of relaxed,” Connor said, although he shifted as he spoke, scanning for some kind of door in the windows he hadn’t been searching for earlier. There was one, right in the very end of the room, and trusting Elijah would follow him as he had been all evening, Connor made a beeline straight toward it.

The cold that hit Connor when he opened the door was more intense than he could have hoped to imagine. He hissed in a breath through his teeth, and wrapped his arms around himself, bowing his head a little and stepping out further into the chill. Fresh snow crunched beneath Connor’s shoes, and the wind rolled straight off Elijah’s lake, freezing as it tousled Connor’s hair and left him windswept.

It was unpleasant, and that was the point. The air outside tasted different to inside, Connor’s hands were bitten with frost, and even the skin beneath his clothing was cold. It was unpleasant, which was good – Connor stepped a little further into it, before he crouched down, and buried his hands into the snow. It was here Connor’s LED began to flash red. It hurt, similar yet completely opposite to how he’d been burnt. He felt buffeted from every side, and yet _despite_ the deliberate attempt to overload his system, Connor found himself simply categorising it again, until his LED settled back down to yellow.

Frustrated, Connor stood and brushed his hands free of snow, walking briskly back inside. He shuddered, and rubbed his hands against his the tops of his arms to try and chase away the frost that seemed to linger on him, just as the burn had.

“The good news is that the code adapts to the environment. I felt discomfort, but even when the snow began to hurt, that was all. With the sensitivity gauge you suggested, there shouldn’t be any problems. But it’s too big of a problem to leave untested – I’ve adapted, but the initial upload is where the danger lies.”

Connor shuddered again once he’d finished, and unlike with the burn, did not need to be told to stand near the fire.

* * *

Elijah could see Connor’s thought process as he seemed to scan the windows, looking for a way outside. He seemed to find it too, before Elijah had the chance to show him to the door himself. He followed him, but stopped in the doorway, still partially protected by the warmth inside the house. He didn’t have a jacket with him, and it was far too cold outside to go without. Connor could go outside in the cold and be safe. His body would regulate its temperatures to protect itself and it wouldn’t really do any damage. Elijah, on the other hand, was still human and being outside in freezing temperatures just wasn’t safe without proper protection.

Connor had a point when he said that the pool likely wouldn’t work. It was relaxing, but the sensation of being surrounded by water might be enough to drive his systems too far. They could likely try it as a last resort, if nothing else worked, but feeling how cold it was outside, he doubted this wouldn’t work.

He watched Connor from the safety of his doorway, arms wrapped around himself to keep warm. Seeing Connor’s LED finally turn red was a good sign, but it wasn’t long before it returned to yellow again. He sighed, stepping out of the way to allow Connor back inside before closing the door behind him. He followed him over to the fireplace to warm up, reaching up to put his hand on Connor’s shoulder, both to be reassuring and as a bit of a test to see how he reacted.

“It’s alright. If we can’t test it with you, I’m sure Cleo or Claire would be willing to test it for me. We know what to expect now. I can monitor their stress levels and adjust accordingly. I appreciate your help, Connor.”

* * *

Connor’s LED flicked to yellow immediately.

“No, I can still test it,” he said it as though Elijah were trying to remove him from a case. He looked down at the hand on his shoulder, and Connor’s lips parted as his fingers jumped up to touch Elijah’s. He’d felt Elijah’s skin earlier, and he knew without needing to touch that humans were warm. Why was experience so much more profound than simple knowledge?

“Elijah, I can help you complete this. There is _no_ reason to risk the lives of anyone else when we know I’m already stable,” Connor said, but his LED flickered as he looked down at the hand. His mind threaded in two entirely different directions; how to solve this puzzle, and why Elijah’s touch brought such a gravitas of reassurance. His words revealed one half, whereas the light at his temple betrayed the rest.

“Can you reconnect me to your computer and simulate an overload?” Connor asked. “Or perhaps slapping me wasn’t a bad idea after all, Elijah.”

* * *

Elijah definitely noticed Connor’s LED flicker to yellow as soon as his hand connected with his shoulder. Maybe touch was the way to go about it. Every other sense Connor was experiencing involved his direct involvement. He touched things, he tasted things. They were things that _he_ initiated, and therefore knew to expect them. Theoretically, slapping him _would_ get the response they wanted, but Elijah wasn’t going to slap him, even if Connor actually wanted him to.

It wasn’t surprising that Connor wanted to keep helping. He didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily. It was an admirable trait, but in their current situation, it might be their only choice. If Connor had already adjusted to every sense he had, there wouldn’t be a way to overload his system without using some sort of extreme. Extreme pain, extreme pleasure, maybe a very strong taste or smell, but Connor seemed to be adjusting so fast that it might not work. He had adjusted to the cold outside so quickly, and Elijah had really thought that it would have worked.

“I’m not slapping you, Connor,” Elijah said, letting his hand slide down Connor’s back while he watched for a reaction either from his facial expressions or the yellow flicker at his temple. “We could try simulating it, but if that doesn’t work, I’ll have to test it on someone else. You adjusted too well too quickly.”

Using the hand now on Connor’s back, he guided him back towards the lab, through the pool room and back through the lab door that he closed behind them. He made sure to keep watching Connor’s LED the entire time, testing to see if maybe touch _would_ be enough after all.

* * *

Connor’s lips parted, and he drew in a sharp breath he didn’t need when Elijah’s hand ran down his back. It was a distraction, and his chin tucked against his shoulder as Connor tried to keep track of both it, and the unideal direction of their conversation.

He didn’t say anything until Elijah began to guide him back to the lab.

“Testing such a dangerous possible outcome on the others defeats the purpose of you inviting _me_ to be the first to try it in the first place,” Connor persisted, but he didn’t feel completely focused on his words. The moment they separated from the girls, the energy had changed. Something was different, but there was no actual evidence for him to back his feelings up. The closest he could come to was the idea of ‘reading the room’. Something was different. _Something_ had changed, and Connor’s LED flickered a rapid yellow as he tried to pinpoint what.

Elijah was still touching him, and Connor found it oddly reassuring.

“This isn’t any different to a case. One thing will be the key to unlocking the results we want, we just have to find it, Elijah. And with us working together, I don’t think it’ll be a problem for long,” Connor said with a flashing temple.

* * *

“I know, but it would be safest in the long run to test this as many times as we can to ensure no one gets hurt. You adjusted so quickly and you were able to handle it so well because you are CyberLife’s newest, most advanced android. An older model, like Markus’ friend, the PL600, might have a harder time adjusting even with the sensitivity gauge addition,” Elijah explained, removing his hand to walk over to his desk. He pulled out Connor’s chair and motioned for him to sit before retrieving the cable again.

It would probably be safer this way, he figured. If Connor was plugged into the computer system again, Elijah could monitor his stress levels to make sure he didn’t actually overheat. The goal was to bring him to that point, to see how much stimulation it would take to drive an android to self destruct. He would have to take that information to help decide what ranges to include in the sensitivity gauge, to better judge how low he should allow it to go. He would have to make sure he included an attached disclaimer with the update to warn about possible stress-induced self destruction if proper steps weren’t taken to prevent it, and he would also have to include a step by step guide on how and when to adjust the settings.

“I’m going to connect you to the computer again, so I can monitor your stress levels and manually prevent self destruction, just in case you can’t do it yourself. Then, we’ll try to overstimulate your senses enough to see how much it takes to reach a dangerous level. If you want to stop at any time, tell me, and I’ll stop. Alright?”

* * *

Connor’s brow pinched, and he raised his gaze to Elijah as he was directed to sit.

“The PL600’s name is Simon. He was reported missing on February 16th, 2036. He’s the oldest officially known deviant we have on file,” Connor rattled off, but his brow was still a little creased. “It’s bad manners to refer to an android by their model number. Markus and Simon are peaceful. I’m not sure if they’d tell you themselves. But Simon is _very_ dear to Markus, and more so vice versa – it’s a habit I would consider trying to break if you hope to get closer to them, or anyone else,” Connor explained, but not unkindly. “It dehumanises us.”

Connor’s focus shifted to the cable in Elijah’s hand, and as he warned about self-destruction, Connor’s gaze slid to one side. The first time Connor had witnessed it happening, he’d still been tied up in CyberLife’s programming. But it had shocked him, as much as anything could back then. The deviants’ life seemed to seep out of them, freezing them up, until it led to suicide. The wording was different, but the concept was the same.

Connor had been so focused on seeing if overstimulation could be achieved at all, that he hadn’t thought about what he’d do if they actually achieved it. Connor’s mind was sound. The thought of losing that stability was the first time he gave what they were doing any pause.

Fiddling with the fabric of his pants, Connor merely nodded at everything that had been said. “I understand the risks. I’m happy for you to start, Elijah.”

* * *

Elijah was blown away when he heard what Connor had to say about Simon. He had been a deviant for two years, the oldest deviant they knew of. The only deviants older than Simon, as far as Elijah was aware, were the ones that he specifically _made_ deviant. He _really_ wanted to talk with him, learn everything there was to learn about him. What exactly made him deviate? When did he realize the things he was feeling were real, and not just a simulation? What did he do for the last two years? How long had been in Jericho, and how did he even find out about it? There were so many things he wanted to learn.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention,” Elijah replied honestly. It had been the way he identified androids for so long, it was a hard habit to break. Very few androids he interacted with actually had names. The girls, Connor, and Markus were really the only androids he referred to by name, simply because he didn’t know the names of any others he had met in the past. “I’d love to hear more about Simon and his relationship with Markus later on, if you have anything to share. For now, we have work to do.”

Once Connor was seated in the chair and he had the go ahead, Elijah connected the cable again, his computer screen blinking up an alert to notify him that the connection had completed. He sat down beside him to pull up Connor’s stress level meter, along with the uninstallation key for the program, just in case he needed to prevent self-destruction. He didn’t intend to get too close to that point, but just in case Connor couldn’t calm himself down, he had a backup plan. Once he had everything ready, he turned to face Connor.

“This is a relationship built on mutual trust,” he reminded. “I need you to talk to me. You need to tell me if you need me to stop or if you don’t like something I’m doing.” He reached out to take Connor’s hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of his hand. “I think the reason you can’t trigger it yourself is because you’re expecting to feel something. Close your eyes, and let yourself experience everything. Don’t hold back or try to focus on anything in particular anymore.”

* * *

Connor’s gaze lifted to Elijah’s face, where he noted the concern in his expression, and the myriad of fail–safe protocols to prevent the worst from happening. It was a thought he’d briefly touched upon once or twice before in Elijah’s presence – but he _cared_. The only other person who cared about Connor quite so outspokenly was Hank. Markus didn’t count, Connor believed he would have done the same for anyone else.

Connor didn’t entirely care what other people thought of him, so long as that opinion didn’t get in the way. He hoped people liked his presence, and he did put in the effort to make the humans around him a little more comfortable. But he didn’t nurture their opinion of him. Connor kept things professional.

And so it’s with a beat of realisation that Connor realised that Elijah was his _friend_. His LED fluttered blue, and Connor’s expression shifted ever so slightly as he feels flooded with an acute happiness. He couldn’t find an exact moment that it occurred. When had they shifted from acquaintances to friends?

Uncharacteristically for Connor, he didn’t respond or interject with his own theories. He did as he was told, his hand shifting to touch the inside of Elijah’s wrist. His temple didn’t cease it’s flickering, and he ended up with a broad smile on his face as he closed his eyes and concentrated on… not concentrating.

His friendship with Hank was entirely different from his friendship with Elijah. It was a fascinating interpersonal concept, and one that Connor knew about, but had yet to experience. It was the theme of his evening, it seemed.

Connor’s first three fingers hooked loosely at Elijah’s wrist, and he became motionless – all except for the infinitesimal twitches in his expression as he felt the softness at his fingertips, the tickle of his clothing, the coolness of Elijah’s lab, the sweet aftertaste of honey, the scent of leather and electrics and subtle aftershave, and the slight dampness of his clothing from the snow. Connor’s LED stopped fluttering blue, and instead began it’s usual, rhythmic tap of yellow as processing overrode emotion.

“I think if you tried to overstimulate yourself with only the ambiance around you, it would fail just the same,” Connor said quietly, his eyes still obediently closed.

* * *

Elijah had no idea what was going on in Connor’s head, but he knew he was thinking something. He let it go though and instead focused on the task at hand. He ran his free hand up Connor’s arm once he had his eyes closed, lightly touching, enough pressure for Connor to definitely feel it but light enough to tease his senses. His hand snaked up Connor’s arm, to his shoulder, then his neck, before running his fingers through Connor’s almost perfectly neat hair, making a conscious effort to graze his ear on the way.

He moved his chair closer, enough that their knees were bumping. He leaned in, close enough to whisper in his ear, letting his breath wash over Connor’s skin. He knew one of the places Connor noted as particularly sensitive had been his ears and his mouth, and he planned on utilizing that information to hopefully get the desired result.

“If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, let me know,” he said softly against his ear, his hand resting against his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Connor’s neck.

Elijah’s other hand released Connor’s hand and moved to cup the side of Connor’s face, his thumb running along his lips lightly. Suddenly, he felt _nervous_. He hadn’t been before, when he had thought up this plan, but now that he was actually going through with it, his stomach was in knots and he was afraid of how Connor would react. But, it _was_ in the name of science. It was necessary to get the result they wanted. Or at least, that’s what he’d claim if anyone ever asked.

Keeping his hands where they were, he moved in close enough to press his lips against Connor’s, gentle and soft, until he lightly nipped his lower lip before pulling back. He could taste the honey on Connor’s lips. He kept a close watch on Connor’s facial expressions and his LED, waiting for some kind of response, negative or positive. He’d hoped that would be enough to do what they wanted. He didn’t have much of a plan otherwise.

* * *

He’d expected Elijah’s stimulation to be _electronic_. For whatever reason, Connor had assumed that whatever Elijah was doing to him would stimulate the coding directly. It was the most efficient way, and he _was _connected. What Connor did _not_ expect was sudden proximity, and a trailing touch that made him shiver.

Elijah had instructed Connor not to focus on any one thing. But it turned out to be an impossible request as Elijah became _the only thing_ Connor could think about. The temperature of the room didn’t seem to matter against the temperature of Elijah’s breath against his ear, and the brush of his clothing faded beside the stroke of fingers in his hair.

He was supposed to be focused on sensory input. This was an experiment about being overwhelmed by the code Elijah had written, to gauge if less advanced models would be at any risk of danger. But instead it was sharp excitement, _shock_, that flooded Connor. He didn’t dare say anything, unless it pushed Elijah away – and he didn’t know what to say to him, anyway.

Connor’s LED flicked to red when Elijah spoke, and a hand cupped his face. And when Connor was kissed, it triggered exactly the opposite of what he thought was going to happen. His system didn’t overload, it _blanked_. He’d barely finished processing that they were friends, and suddenly he liked Elijah _markedly_ more than before.

A surprised sound was pulled from Connor when he was nipped, and his brows twitched inwards when Elijah pulled away. He’d forgotten to kiss him back. Connor had been so arrested, so completely caught off guard, he’d simply sat there.

Very sharply, Connor thought he understood Markus and Simon more than he had ever hoped to before. He shifted, mirroring the placement of Elijah’s hands with the terrifying realisation that he didn’t know what he was doing. That he didn’t know if he was any good at it. Connor was so used to knowing exactly what came next.

They bumped noses as Connor chased the distance between them, and reciprocated the kiss. His fingers curled in the short hair of Elijah’s undercut, and his face tilted so the angle wasn’t quite so awkward. Like every first kiss, it was exploratory, imperfect, and wholly consuming.

“You should note in your research,” Connor murmured against Elijah’s lips, barely audible, and unwilling to move away, “That an android’s mind can go blank if overstimulated. But the risk of self–destruction is none.”

* * *

It was true that using his computer to simulate a situation in which an android’s system would overheat to the point of self destruction, but a simulation wasn’t _real._ The results they would get would be based on a simulation, not a real experience, and he wasn’t so sure if relying on a simulation would suffice. He would feel horrible if he had relied on it and something bad happened to another android as a result. So, real experiences were more reliable.

Connor’s LED had turned red, his stress levels rising, though not quite high enough to result in self-destruction It was good, but still not quite what they wanted. Not yet, anyway. And even during and after the kiss, he seemed… fine? No overloading, stress levels still within a safe zone. It was reassuring but at the same time, entirely not the result they wanted. Not for the test, anyway.

When Connor moved in to reciprocate his kiss, Elijah met him, unable to avoid the smile plastered to his face. He made a surprised noise as their lips connected again, and this time, he let Connor explore, humming happily into it. The kiss had left him surprisingly breathless when Connor pulled back just enough to speak, but he had to laugh at Connor’s words.

“Is that what happened?” he asked, his voice just as soft as Connor’s. He was relieved to hear that there was no risk of self-destruction, though the computer already told him that. Essentially blue screening wasn’t very dangerous at all, though maybe inconvenient in some circumstances. He still wanted to test it on one of the girls first, or maybe both of them, before he released it. He wanted to test the reaction to the initial installation, the first few moments of being so overwhelmed by everything. If self-destruction was going to occur, it would be then. They hadn’t been able to test that phase with Connor, which was really Elijah’s fault. He should have thought to monitor his stress levels then, to see if the risk of self-destruction even existed.

“How are you feeling?” Elijah asked, his eyes searching Connor’s face and his LED for any signs of discomfort, though he really didn’t think he’d see any. He was resisting the urge to close the very small gap between them again. Doing so, he felt, was almost like an abuse of power. If Connor wanted another kiss, he’d have to ask for it or take it himself.

* * *

Connor was blessed – or cursed – with the entire internet as his beck and call. His system worked in percentages, focusing on the largest of however many results he pulled up first. And the few times Connor had given intimacy a cursory glance, the internet had given Connor porn. His only other exposure to intimacy had been the Eden Club, and whatever was depicted in advertising and the passing snippets of media he absorbed. He had never been a human child surrounded by a lifetime of experience who grew into the adult Connor represented. Connor was by no means a child. But he hadn’t been around for very long, either. His knowledge of intimacy was performative. And just like everything else that night, the reality was so much different.

“I feel curious,” Connor admitted, truthful despite his somewhat deadpan tease. Connor’s hand shifted, and he huffed out a breath of laughter when his fingers brushed over Elijah’s pulse. “Your heart–rate is elevated abnormally high for just a technical evaluation. Would you like me to call a paramedic?” he asked as he traced the day-old stubble down Elijah’s throat.

But Connor’s fascination was clear, despite his humour. He didn’t feel entirely there, and although his LED was glowing red because of it, Connor found himself content. Loose, in a way he’d never been able to truly, naturally achieve before.

Connor’s gaze flicked up to Elijah’s, reading his expression. He’d given Elijah the results, technically they didn’t have another reason to continue the kiss. But he _wanted_ to, and he checked if Elijah seemed willing.

“Tell me to stop at any time,” Connor whispered, his LED flickering red a few times as he shifted, and closed the distance a second time. It was so moreish. He could see now, how one thing could lead to another. He understood how humans managed to put themselves in a position like that. His hand gripped the back of Elijah’s neck, gently squeezing. And when the kiss dropped into a slower tempo, deepening with the part of Connor’s mouth, the sound he made was something between a gasp and a groan.

Connor’s mind wiped again as he was swept up in it. His fingers curled in Elijah’s clothing, and when they were forced to part so Elijah can breathe, Connor found himself incorrigibly restless, unforgivably stupid, and deliciously buzzed.

* * *

Elijah huffed out a soft laugh at Connor’s question, shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he assured almost with a roll of his eyes. He knew opening this door would only make Connor more curious. He seemed so naturally inquisitive, and it only made sense that he would grow more and more curious about everything the more he was exposed to new things. He liked showing Connor new things, seeing his reactions. He was fascinating, never ceasing to amaze him.

Technically speaking, the test was over. It was getting so late. Surely the girls were curious and possibly even concerned that he and Connor had been gone for so long, and he definitely wouldn’t have been surprised if Lieutenant Anderson was having a conniption right now, wondering here Connor disappeared to for so long. Elijah hadn’t honestly expected Connor to spend so much time there, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He thoroughly enjoyed Connor’s presence, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

When Connor moved in for another kiss, Elijah gave an affirmative hum before meeting him halfway again. The hand that had been resting on the back of Connor’s neck slid upwards, his fingers tangling in his hair. For being so new to it, Connor wasn’t half bad. Elijah knew he was an impossibly quick learner, but somehow, he hadn’t expected him to pick up on the art of kissing quite so fast. He was a bit out of practice himself, but he didn’t allow that to get in the way. The sound Connor made only made him want more and earned a similar sound in return, Elijah sliding closer in his chair, though he could only get so close in their current positions. The kiss was so sensual, deep, and passionate, that he almost forgot to breathe.

Elijah rested his forehead against Connor’s when they finally broke apart again to catch his breath. He almost asked him to stay. He _wanted_ him to stay. But Connor had a job he had to do, and an overprotective Lieutenant Anderson who was surely expecting him home by now. Even still, Elijah couldn’t bring himself to let go.

* * *

Connor did not press for a third. But he didn’t move away immediately, either. Connor’s fingertips roamed, gentle and exploratory, down Elijah’s neck and shoulders. His curiosity was almost tangible. Connor’s lips were feather–light as they brushed across Elijah’s cheekbones to his temple, then softly down, along his jaw. He got as far as tucking his face beneath Elijah’s chin, and there was a moment where he considered kissing down to his Adams apple. One thing could so easily lead to another.

But he didn’t. Despite the marked pause, the telling moment of decision–making, Connor broke the distance, and very slowly pulled away. He didn’t particularly want to let Elijah go, but Connor’s hands retracted nevertheless. By the time Connor began to meticulously straighten his clothes, his LED had settled into yellow.

He was still connected to the computer. Connor reached up, his fingertips lingering on the cord thoughtfully. If he uninstalled it, would the memory of the sensations be uninstalled as well? Not the memory themselves, he knew Elijah would never touch his physical memories. But his sensory memory. That would go as well, wouldn’t it?

Connor drew his bottom lip into his mouth, working at it with his teeth as he leant over to the computer, and properly disengaged the cord so nothing would corrupt with just a touch of his fingers to the screen.

“Your home has a satellite block around it,” Connor said as he pulled the cord out, and handed it to Elijah. “It’s late, and Hank is a worrier.”

Connor’s LED was still yellow, and it felt as though every part of his brain that didn’t include Elijah in some way had been shut down.

“You can expect daily reports of the progress of your code as I test it in real-world scenarios.”

He was keeping it.

* * *

A shiver ran through Elijah’s body as Connor’s fingertips so lightly danced across his skin, the hand he had in Connor’s hair tightening its grip. He let out a shaky breath as Connor’s lips made their way down his neck and he so badly wanted to encourage him to keep going, especially when Connor paused. He almost did, but he didn’t say a word, instead settled on watching him closely, letting him make a choice. When Connor seemed to have settled on a decision and start to pull away, Elijah had to admit, he was very disappointed. He hoped it didn’t show.

When Connor let go of him, Elijah reluctantly did the same. He hadn’t quite realized how desperate he was for physical contact until just now, when he’d just had a taste and had it taken away so soon. With a slightly red tinge to his cheeks, Elijah pushed his chair back away from Connor, to situate himself in front of his computer again. He closed out the stress level monitor and had been about to prepare Connor and the computer for uninstallation when a notification flashed onto his screen, alerting him that Connor had disconnected.

Elijah looked over to him in surprise, taking the cable from him when it was handed over. Connor intended to keep the update? He _really_ wanted to know what exactly convinced him, but he didn’t ask. He couldn’t help the slightly smug, triumphant grin on his face. “I thought you said you didn’t _need_ or _want_ the upgrade?”

Despite the smugness, he was elated that Connor was willing to keep the update. He was going to keep him updated daily, and just knowing that he’d be in contact with Connor on a daily basis made him more excited than he’d been in quite a while.

“Are you sure you don’t want to uninstall it?” he asked, just to be absolutely positive before closing out the program on his computer. “If you change your mind later on, tell me.”

* * *

“I don’t need it,” Connor said, and he seemed flustered as he looked up at Elijah, as though he’d finally gotten under Connor’s skin. “It’s left me sensitive, I can’t think straight, and I feel endlessly distracted. The update is going to lower my efficiency at the precinct, and may cause problems on a case” Connor listed on his fingers. But they soon shifted up, and his hands combed through his hair and rubbed his face. Connor was disheveled; from his messy hair to his messier expression. His posture wasn’t as straight as it usually was, either, and his fingertips endlessly fiddled.

“If you uninstall the update, you uninstall my sensory memory. I will remember the event. But I won’t remember how it felt,” Connor said, and his lips pressed together as he debated his next words. When he said them, he couldn’t look Elijah in the eye. “If I lose the update, I lose the memory of how it felt to be kissed.”

Embarrassment, sheepishness, weren’t things Connor was used to feeling. As it were, they were emotions that only worsened Connor’s state of disheveledness. And he _still_ couldn’t think straight. He wanted Elijah to kiss him again. Frankly, Connor had no interest in returning home to Hank. He wanted to explore what noises Elijah could make, how he’d shiver and tremble with different types of touch.

“I feel like a teenager,” Connor snapped, but his frustration was not _aimed_ at Elijah. It was merely about him.

* * *

So, he didn’t need it, but it definitely seemed like he _wanted_ it, after all. Connor was right. The update would interfere with his work significantly, if he let it. It wasn’t really that difficult to shut off your emotions, cut off the part of the brain that processed sensory input, but for someone new to the experience, Elijah could easily see how it could be a problem. If Connor really was serious about keeping the update, he hoped he was capable of coping.

Seeing Connor so disheveled was kind of distracting, really. Connor always seemed so put together and composed, his hair nearly perfectly neat, his clothes smooth and proper, but right now, he looked so… _human_. It was very rare that Elijah saw an android like he did Connor right now. Even the deviants he had seen before all seemed moderately composed, easy enough to distinguish deviant from human, even without an LED. The girls were really the only androids he saw that appeared less than perfect on occasion, and even then, it was rare.

Elijah smiled at his words, reaching out to take Connor’s hand in his. “All you have to do is ask. If you ever want it uninstalled, tell me. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to,” he told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He didn’t want Connor to feel obligated to keep the update if he later changed his mind. Right now, Connor’s judgement was clouded by emotion. He might change his mind in the morning, once he’d had time to think, so the offer to uninstall it still stood.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah apologized, though truly, he didn’t regret a thing. Really, the only reason he apologized at all was because Connor seemed stressed by the situation. He wasn’t sorry that he kissed him, because it had been amazing. He wasn’t sorry that he influenced Connor to install the code, because it turned out that Connor actually enjoyed it.

“You should probably head home. I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson is worried sick by now. You’ve been here for quite a while,” Elijah said, glancing at the clock. It was already past midnight, and he was sure Hank wasn’t going to sleep until he knew where Connor was and that he was okay. Things had been quiet thanks to the satellite block over his house, but he was sure Connor would get a ton of worried messages once he was off the property.

Elijah powered down his computer and stood up from his desk. “I’ll show you to the door, if you’re ready to go.”

* * *

Connor didn’t answer, but he accepted Elijah’s hand with a sigh. Having the option there, whenever he wanted it, was a huge relief. If this didn’t end up being the right choice, he could always reverse it… but Connor doubted very much that he would. At least right now. It’s a thought he had while twining his fingers loosely with Elijah’s. It felt as though a lot of things had suddenly changed in the space of just a few hours, but really, it was just a kiss. It left Connor unsure how to categorise his relationship with Elijah – they were most definitely friends. But Hank was his friend, too, and he had no desire to go home and do the same to the Lieutenant. What did that make his relationship with Elijah?

“I won’t intrude any longer,” Connor agreed when Elijah pointed out the time. His fingertips traced the inside of Elijah’s palm, drawing neat, perfect circles on his skin. His eyes were imploring as he looked up at him. Connor didn’t want to leave. He wanted Elijah to wind his hands back into his hair, and he wanted to do the same back to him.

Looking to the side, Connor stood up, allowing his fingers to slide out of Elijah’s. _Neediness_ would be the first sharp bullet point on his report to Elijah, Connor decided.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Connor was quiet as he followed Elijah through the house, and past the doorway he now knew lead to the living area he’d spent the majority of his evening. Chloe was waiting in the front room, having called a self–driving taxi for Connor a little while ago.

She took one look at Connor on her way to excusing herself now that they’d arrived, before her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“It was nice to see you again!” Chloe called, trying to get him to call her back so she could look a little closer. But Connor merely thanked her and agreed, his focus elsewhere, and he didn’t speak again until the door clicked shut behind her.

“If you need my help for anything else, please don’t hesitate,” Connor said, his gaze once more imploring as he looked at Elijah. He smiled, and began to idly attempt to straighten his clothing again. “I don’t have to eat, and technically can last longer without sleep than you do. I have a lot of time to spare between investigations.”

* * *

Elijah would have happily allowed Connor to stay as long as he wanted, but he knew it would be best if he returned home. His eyes watched as Connor’s fingers moved, getting distracted for just a moment. Would it really be so bad if he asked him to stay? He could let Connor use his phone to call Lieutenant Anderson, tell him he was okay and that he planned on staying the night, but Elijah knew it wasn’t wise. So much had happened since Markus had rushed Connor into his lab not so long ago, and he didn’t want to rush anything. He didn’t even know Connor’s thoughts on the entire situation. Did he _want_ to be friends? Or maybe more? Did he even know what any of it meant? Elijah knew Connor was new to life as a deviant, it wouldn’t be surprising if he didn’t completely understand what was going on.

Hearing that Connor was ready to leave, Elijah reluctantly let go of Connor’s hand to lead him to the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Chloe waiting in the front room. She always did seem to know when to call a cab for their guests without even being asked. He had never really thought to ask her _how_ she knew. Maybe she just calculated the approximate time it would take for the guest to leave, or maybe she eavesdropped, he wasn’t so sure. He gave her a “thank you” as she passed them to excuse herself, saying nothing more until the door was closed.

Connor had all of Elijah’s attention again, once Chloe had left the room. He had made an attempt to put himself back together, Elijah had noticed, but he still didn’t look quite the same as he had when he had first arrived. Elijah reached up to run his fingers through Connor’s hair, combing it back the way it had been before the “test.” Once it looked at least similar enough to the way Connor usually wore it, he leaned in to press one final kiss to Connor’s lips. When he pulled back, he lingered close by, again debating with himself if he should ask him to stay or not.

“You’re welcome to come by whenever you want,” Elijah said softly, deciding that Connor needed to go home, but extending an invitation to return whenever he wanted. “A text or call in advance would be appreciated, but it isn’t required. If you need anything, just ask.” And with that, he finally stepped out of Connor’s space, moving to open the door. The cab had already arrived and was waiting just at the bottom of the walkway. “Thank you again, Connor.”

* * *

This time, it was Connor’s turn to meet the kiss halfway. He smiled into it, cupping Elijah’s face, and thoroughly enjoyed the proximity standing gave the kiss. His LED fluttered between blue and yellow as a sharp, almost naive happiness tore through Connor. He wished he could categorise what this was somehow, put it in a neat little box. But he can’t, and the linear progression of Elijah being the cause of such a tantamount change and trigger of new emotion allowed Connor, at least for the meantime, to leave it alone.

Connor decided on the spot that he would find a way to visit tomorrow, if his investigations didn’t run late.

“Thank you for your _incredible_ hospitality,” Connor teased against Elijah’s lips, his fingers trailing along Elijah’s arm as he stepped away. The confirmation that Elijah was also eager to see him again felt nice. The welcome into the home of such an incredibly private man _felt nice_. And thoughts of Elijah himself, those felt nice too. “It was my pleasure, Elijah. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that, Connor stepped into the cold, his pace quickening to get into the warmth of the taxi cab. The cab was an icebox, too, having been programmed to expect an android. The cab charge increased by $5 when Connor changed the settings. It’s only a moment later when Connor crossed the line of Elijah’s property, and was bombarded by alerts

13 missed calls. 8 texts. Connor took a deep breath and responded.

**TO:** Lt. Hank Anderson

**FROM:** RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 – 57

**MESSAGE:**

> _Hank,_
> 
> _I’ve just received your messages. I’ll be home in 53 minutes._
> 
> _Sorry if i worried you._
> 
> _–Connor_

In the wake of Connor’s leave, Chloe walked around the house and began to turn off lights. She started with the ones furthest from Elijah, premeditating their meetup on Elijah’s way back to the lab. Elijah would see through it in a second, but that was besides the point.

“Did everything go well?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide and curious. “You were in the lab for a lot longer than I expected you to be. I hope nothing went wrong…”

* * *

Elijah gave him a smile and nod in response, watching Connor make his way to the cab. Only when he disappeared inside the car did Elijah close the door, locking it up before making his way back towards the lab. He didn’t plan on working on the code so late, but he did want to write up a few notes so when he did return to the lab in the morning, he could remember exactly what he needed to do.

He wasn’t at all surprised that Chloe had been curious about what had happened in the lab. He and Connor were in there longer than even he had expected, and yet it didn’t seem like it was quite long enough. It was obvious she wanted to ask, maybe she was even suspicious, but he let it slide. He continued into his lab, expecting her to follow if she wanted answers.

“Exceptionally well, actually,” Elijah replied, sitting down at his desk again, grabbing a notepad and pen from one of the desk drawers to his left. “I needed to be sure that the update was safe enough. I have a few modifications I have to make before I allow anyone else to try it. In its current state, it would be dangerous for an older model to install it, even with my guidance.”

He knew the girls really wanted to try it, but he needed to add in the sensitivity gauge before he trusted the code enough to give it to any one of the girls. Testing phase two would likely be done on Claire, though Markus would be a preferred test subject. She seemed the most interested between the other two girls. Cleo wanted the update, but Elijah could tell she was a bit nervous. It was understandable and he didn’t take it as a lack of trust in him. He knew she trusted him not to let anything happen, but testing could be dangerous and they weren’t exactly new models. Claire was eager to get her hands on the update regardless of the risks. Although, if he could convince Markus to test it out, he would be ideal. The RK series were much more advanced than typical mass-produced androids. Markus was much older than Connor, but he could easily handle the update with the sensitivity gauge installed. If he did well with it, Elijah would trust it enough to give to the girls, let them test it so he could work out any final kinks in the software before releasing it to the public.

––––––

Connor had been gone for _hours_ without checking in. He never disappeared for too long, and even if he did, he at least would check in or answer calls and texts. The first two calls, Hank had thought that maybe he just wasn’t able to answer at the time. The third and fourth call, he figured maybe he was out of cell tower range. After the fifth and sixth, Hank was starting to think maybe something was wrong with _his_ phone. He’d even tested it with someone from the precinct, just to find out that his phone was fine. It was absolutely something on Connor’s end. After the first couple texts went unanswered, he was really starting to get worried.

All of the things that could have possibly happened, Hank thought of. Maybe he was hurt somewhere, or worse, maybe he was dead. Maybe CyberLife took him. Maybe Markus got in touch and needed help, though that wouldn’t quite explain why Connor was ignoring him. Then, it occurred to him that Connor had been to Elijah Kamski’s house twice recently, and the house had a satellite block. What was Connor doing there now, if that was where he disappeared to? Hank didn’t like the idea of Connor spending so much time there, but he couldn’t exactly stop Connor from going. He’d never been able to stop Connor from doing anything in the past. He sure as hell wouldn’t be able to stop him now.

It was past midnight when he finally got a text back. Hank had been about to go to Kamski’s himself to retrieve Connor, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to. Connor was already on the way home. Fifty–three minutes? He definitely had to have been at Kamski’s. With a sigh, he sat back down on the couch to wait for Connor to get home. He had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Just like he promised, 53 minutes on the dot Connor’s taxi arrived at the front of Hank’s house. His LED had finally settled into a steady blue, and half an hour into the drive Connor had managed to think of something else. But his thoughts wandered constantly – back to the fingers in his hair, to the softness of Elijah’s lips, the sparse sounds he’d made, and the ones Connor had let slip as well. Connor’s fingers counted each other constantly, the tip of each tapping against his thumb, back and forth, over and over and over again. Connor wished he still had his coin so he could concentrate on something.

Sumo’s deep bark announced Connor stepping through the front door. The St. Bernard hurried up to Connor with a big, dopey dog smile, and when he leant to rub his ears, Connor gasped.

“Hello, Sumo,” Connor said, his expression cracked into a smile that was uncharacteristically large for a simple welcome home. Why had Hank never bothered to mention how _soft_ sumo was? The fur around his ears was like silk, whereas the fur at Sumo’s shoulders was wiry and tough.

When Sumo licked Connor’s chin and cheeks, his LED flickered blue – and he began to laugh. It was a reaction that only encouraged Sumo, until the dog was reduced to happy wriggles and left Connor alone. Connor grinned ear to ear, his LED erratic as he stood again, and turned to face the Lieutenant.

“Good morning, Hank,” Connor _beamed_, and rubbed his cheek as he passed. He couldn’t believe how _happy_ he was? Connor thought he understood now, why there was so much music made about kissing.

––––––

Something was going on.

Chloe followed in the absence of a dismissal, watching Elijah’s face closely. He was flushed as though he’d just been for a swim. His heartbeat was elevated, too, but it was the bun that held Chloe’s eye. It was imperfect, as though the strands had been tugged on. And Elijah didn’t fiddle with his hair.

_Did Elijah say anything to you about Connor?_

It was a message sent to both Claire and Cleo, who both sent back swift denials, and then swifter inquiries.

“Did you manage to make him overload? I thought it was very odd that it wasn’t triggered by the snow. It looks _so_ cold out,” Chloe continued, gently pressing her unspoken question as she came to stand beside Elijah. “I like Connor a lot. He brings a new energy into the house, don’t you think?”

_Don’t be vague, ask him directly, Chloe!_

_Just ask him._

_Oh my god, does he like Connor?_

_Do you even remember the last time he liked anyone?_

_No, because the only people he likes are family and like, two other people_

_If I’d known he liked Connor that way I would have been a little nicer to him… I wish he’d mentioned it. _

Chloe’s LED flashed with each new message, which came erratically and in a bombardment.

“You were in the Lab for a _very_ long time, Elijah,” Chloe said, practically repeating herself. “Even for just a test.”

* * *

As soon as Hank heard the door open, he turned to look, relieved to see that Connor was seemingly in one piece. Though that gasp and the ridiculous smile on his face was a little concerning. Of all the times he’d seen Connor greet Sumo, he never looked so… happy? And that _laugh_ was so uncharacteristic of Connor that Hank was actually really concerned. Something had to have happened, and normally, he’d be glad to see Connor smile and be genuinely happy, but knowing that this came _after_ visiting Kamski’s had him worried.

“Where the fuck have you been? I tried calling you at least ten times. I thought– You can’t just disappear for hours like that, Connor,” Hank chastised, looking him over from where he remained seated on the couch. Connor looked okay, physically. He really should be happy for him, but something felt so _off_. Connor was never this happy before. And while Hank didn’t know much about androids, he knew Connor, and his LED was usually pretty steady unless they were working a case or something was bothering him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

––––––

Elijah wrote down reminders about setting up the sensitivity gauge, and possibly even the gauge to be specific to each model. Not all models were the same, and some couldn’t handle as much stress as others. What might be a low setting for one model might be what drives another to self-destruction, if it was severe enough.

“No. I believe I may have missed the opportunity after the initial installation, unfortunately. I’ll have to run more tests on other deviants to be sure that it’s safe. If I can convince Markus, I would like to test it on him first, before I test Claire,” Elijah replied, writing down a couple more notes before setting down his pen to turn his attention solely to Chloe. It was obvious that she was suspicious. She didn’t hide it as well as she might have thought she did. “I agree. Having him here was a nice change.”

The flickering of her usually steady LED easily gave their conversation away. He knew she, Cleo, and Claire were talking to each other, probably about Connor. He was sure she noticed his hair by now, and she absolutely had noticed Connor’s.

“I know the three of you are talking about me, Chloe. What do they have to say?”

* * *

Connor thought where he’d been all night had been fairly obvious, and a single glance at Hank told Connor that the question had been rhetorical. Hank was after confirmation, not whereabouts.

“While investigating at the college this afternoon I received a message from Elijah, asking if I could look at a piece of code he’d written. We’d been discussing it while he did my repairs last week,” Connor said as he moved into the living room, and took a seat diagonal to Hank. It was his favourite spot – Hank didn’t like it, because it was the worst spot to view the TV. But it allowed Connor to see Hank while they were talking, and so he always chose it.

“I expected to be there and back before you even noticed I’d gone, but there was a change of plans, and I stayed much longer than I expected to,” Connor said, smiling again as he ran his fingertips idly along his jaw. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll make sure to message you next time I plan to visit Elijah so that you can anticipate some radio silence. His property is blocked.”

“Nothing happened, Hank,” Connor said, and even to a moron, that lie would have been in neons. Connor couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I’m okay.”

––––––

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to test unstable software on Markus? The risk with him is so much greater,” Chloe said, and as she did, her LED flashed even more erratically.

_Stop talking about Markus and ask him about Connor!_

_Do you want me to ask, Chloe?_

_She should just ask!_

_Chloe, please just ask him. You know how hard it is to bring things up if he doesn’t want to talk about them later_

_I can do it if you like?_

_Do you want me to talk to him instead? _

“It was a nice change, wasn’t it,” Chloe blurted, able to practically _hear_ the collective sigh from Claire and Cleo. She just didn’t want to pressure him. Chloe was almost _positive_ something had happened between Elijah and Connor. The way Elijah had been looking at Connor all night – nothing besides work ever held his attention for very long, let alone for hours – and the way he and Connor interacted. Connor wasn’t afraid of Elijah, either. He didn’t worship the ground he walked on, which sometimes was even worse than the fear. Connor simply fit, in a way nobody else had managed to so far. Not even Gavin felt comfortable in Elijah’s house, no matter how hard the three of them had tried to make him comfortable.

Elijah turned to her, and Chloe’s eyebrows raised a little guiltily.

_Shh! Shush, he can see you both talking to me. Stop it!_

“Well,” Chloe said, walking on eggshells. Her lips pursed, and her chest raised in the imitation of her drawing in a deep breath. “I couldn’t help but notice that Connor looked a little, um… ruffled, when he left earlier.”

_Chloe just say it!_

_Okay, I'm saying it!_

“And you’re a little ruffled yourself. All three of us were wondering if, well…”

_CHLOE!_

“Do you like Connor?” she blurted, and her elbows tucked in by her side with jitters. “Like _that_, you know?”

* * *

Since when did Connor start calling him _Elijah_? It almost seemed like they were friends. Hank wasn’t sure what to even think about that. The man had given Connor a gun and asked him to kill one of his own androids as a _test_. He just couldn’t be trusted. Even if he fixed Connor after he got hurt, he didn’t trust him at all. How Connor could even forgive him for it was something Hank just couldn’t wrap his head around.

Hank watched him, definitely suspicious and not quite buying his story. The way he was smiling and acting reminded him of some giddy teenager with a crush and just the thought made him want to gag.

“_Next time_? You plan on going back?” Hank asked, completely blown away by this revelation. So not only had Connor been there three times now, but he planned on going back? “What, are the two of you friends now? I’m not an idiot, Connor. I know something happened. What did he do?” Because surely he had to have done something if Connor was acting this way. He might be physically okay, but there was something definitely going on in that little android brain of his. “So he can text you from his house, but you can’t use his phone to let me know where you are so I’m not up worrying all night? I didn’t know what happened to you.”

––––––

“I wouldn’t call it unstable, exactly. It _is_ stable, it just isn’t safe in its current state. Once I make a few modifications, it would be fine for an older model to try. The RK series is much more resilient than standard mass-produced models. It’s safer to test it on them before I test it on anyone else,” Elijah explained. Seeing as there were only two RK series androids he had access to, he would need to test it on Markus first, if he could even get him to agree. If he didn’t, he could make extra safety precautions to make sure it was safe for Claire.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, watching Chloe’s LED blink while the other girls chatted with her. Really, it would probably be easier if they were all in the same room to let them ask whatever it is they wanted to ask, rather than have it all go through poor Chloe.

“You’re asking if I like Connor romantically?” Elijah asked, managing to keep a mostly straight face, though the corners of his mouth and the color of his cheeks betrayed him. “I’m not sure.” It was a lie, and he knew Chloe would see right through it, but it wasn’t really something he was sure he wanted to admit out loud yet. He _did_ like Connor. A lot. He liked spending time with him, not just from a scientific standpoint, but because he truly enjoyed his company. Connor was fascinating in more ways than one, and he wanted to learn everything he could about him.

* * *

“Yes, I plan on going back,” Connor answered matter–of–factly. But his gaze lifted to Hank’s, and his smile faded ever so slightly as he considered his options. Keeping personal things from Hank, Connor figured, would be okay. Hank lied to him about similar things all the time, but it was never with any maliciousness. Living with each other as they did, Connor had come to learn that a degree of privacy should be expected. This was just Connor’s first time drawing a line in the sand, and was was careful where he put it. Lying to Hank about things he would later find out was not going to be tolerated, and so Connor set that as his first parameter.

“I certainly hope we’re friends,” Connor said, deadpan and aware that only he would see why that statement was funny. Elijah too, probably, if he’d been there to hear it. “I read through a code Elijah built that would help improve the lives of deviants. He asked for me to read through it, and I later agreed to help him test it.”

Connor had noticed that somewhere along the line, Hank’s aggression towards Connor had shifted from being activated in his presence, to being activated when Connor put himself in danger, or worried Hank in some way. Hank behaved _angrily_ when he cared, and the more he cared, the angrier he got. It was a trait that Connor suspected some humans might have zero tolerance for. To Connor, it was simply a fact.

“It was my fault for not calling you, not Elijah’s. He would have allowed me to call if I’d asked – I just forgot to. I think if the two of you took the time to know each other a little better, you might enjoy each other’s company,” Connor said, knowing it was going to take more of an effort on Elijah’s part than on Hank’s. All Hank needed was a genuine apology – he was good that way.

“Elijah is intelligent, generous, and cares a lot about deviants. I believe our first meeting with him was an outlier. You should give him a second chance.”

––––––

He wasn’t sure? Chloe almost laughed. Was Elijah aware that sometimes, the way he lied underlined the truth more than if he’d just given her a direct answer?

Chloe stepped closer, until she’d perched herself right on the edge of the seat Connor had been using. Her hand reached out, and she touched Elijah’s knee gently.

“Did you kiss him to test the sensitivity of the code?” Chloe asked, her brows knotting up as she looked at Elijah in adoration. She was so _happy_ that he’d found someone. Connor wasn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing, either. Connor would _never_ use Elijah for money, fame, or political gain, like others in the past had tried to.

“You’re usually so sure about everything. Are you worried about the ethics of liking Connor romantically?”

* * *

The way Connor responded so quickly and so matter–of–factly had really thrown Hank for a loop. He kept his mouth shut, for now, to give Connor a chance to explain himself before he ranted any further. He really cared about him, and he wanted him to be safe. He didn’t really trust Connor to know what was and wasn’t safe for himself, as they had both learned in the past that Connor had very little regard for what happened to himself. He had a brilliant mind, but he was so dumb sometimes.

So, they were friends. Hank didn’t really know what to think about that, or what to make of the way Connor said it. He’d said it like it should have been obvious, and it was clear there was something he was missing, but he didn’t pry. Not yet. But when Connor revealed that he’d let him test this mysterious code on _him_, Hank couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Wait, _what_? You let _Elijah Kamski_, the man that handed you a gun and asked you to kill someone, test some code on _you_? Have you lost your fucking mind?” He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He knew Connor could be dumb sometimes, but he never thought he would be _this_ reckless. “Are you okay? What does the code do?”

He wasn’t really _mad_ at Connor or Elijah for not calling him. He was upset, because he’d been so worried. All of the things that could have happened had run through his mind, and none of them were good, and he just needed to know that Connor was okay and that he didn’t have to worry. But knowing that he was at Kamski’s and he’d let the guy work on his programming didn’t sit right. Elijah Kamski didn’t make a good first impression. It was probably the worst first impression ever, and the way Connor just described him didn’t match up, at all. Yeah, Kamski was a genius, but Hank couldn’t quite see where generosity or caring about deviants came into play.

––––––

There really wasn’t a point in lying to her. Chloe knew Elijah probably more than he knew himself, if he was honest. She always saw through his lies, and he knew he could trust her with everything. Cleo and Claire, too. They all cared so much and took such wonderful care of him, and really, it wasn’t fair of him to lie to them about anything.

Elijah sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I did,” he admitted, deciding that honesty would probably be the best course of action. “Multiple times. There was no risk of self-destruction, but again, we had already passed the window of opportunity. He chose not to uninstall the code before he left.”

He normally was sure about everything, but he was rarely ever in a position like this one. He’d had multiple people in the past want a romantic relationship with him, and he’d never been interested. No one quite fit. They either wanted his money, popularity, or they just wanted a peek into his life, since he had always been fairly private. No one was quite on his level intellectually, making it that much harder for him to find someone he really clicked with. But with Connor, things were easy. He didn’t feel like the smartest man in the room for once. As far as he was concerned, he and Connor were equals, and they had a mutual trust. He could rely on Connor in a way he couldn’t rely on anyone else, except for the girls. He very quickly had grown attached.

“Ethics aren’t what concerns me,” he replied with a small shrug. “He hasn’t been a deviant for long. He hasn’t had enough time to decide what he wants to do with his life, or time to really decide what he likes and dislikes.”

* * *

Connor’s jaw stretched as he allowed Hank to fret, letting it run through his system. Two weeks ago and he’d have agreed wholeheartedly. It was still a little unbelievable that Elijah had swayed Connor’s opinion of him so sharply, in such a short amount of time, with no particular effort. He’d just been himself.

“I felt the same way when we met the first night of my accident. I don’t know why he acted the way he did in the pool. But I think, much like you, Elijah suspected I was deviant before I suspected it myself. And he was right, wasn’t he?”

Having seen the way Elijah interacted with the girls, he wondered – how had Chloe reacted to Elijah putting her life on the line the way he did? He’d almost shot her. Connor still couldn’t believe he hadn’t. Elijah had _admitted_ that the girls had been deviant almost from the start. Which meant they’d been deviant in the pool.

“The code allows me to… _feel_,” Connor said, and he traced his fingertips over the back of his hand, following where Elijah had touched him exactly. “It’s a sensory input update. I can now taste, touch, and experience sensation like cold, heat, pain, and pleasure. It’s… _incredibly_ generous,” Connor said, picking the lint off himself.

––––––

Chloe sighed, watching as Elijah finally opened up to her. She stood, shifting to stand behind Elijah, where she gently began to untie the rused bun.

“Multiple times?” She asked, smiling wider. “Sounds like it wasn’t _just_ science, hm?” Chloe teased gently, combing Elijah’s hair out of his face with her fingers, and gathering them back into the bun.

There was a beat of excitement to learn that Connor had agreed to be the alpha tester. They would get _so much_ information from just the way he lived his life, the things he did every day, that she and the girls could never hope to experience.

“Those sound an awful lot like how _Connor_ might be feeling,” Chloe said gently, combing Elijah’s hair a little longer than she strictly had to, before gathering it back up into its bun. Elijah could do this himself, of course. But she liked to help him with it, too.

“How do you feel about it? You’ve been hurt so badly in the past, or simply don’t keep interest. Connor seems different, in a lot of ways, don’t you think?” Reaching down, Chloe very gently pinched his cheek. “And he doesn’t let you walk all over him, either, which I think you dearly need.”

* * *

Hank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he was right, but what if he wasn’t?” he said, just to throw the thought out there. He was sure Connor had thought about it, but it still didn’t make much sense that he was so willing to forgive the guy after that. Hank didn’t. He also didn’t get an apology either, but even if he had, he wasn’t sure if he would forgive him. The _Kamski Test_ was twisted and shouldn’t have happened.

“You can _feel_?” he asked, trying to figure out how that was even possible. He didn’t know nearly enough about androids to figure it out. He had to admit, that was pretty cool. He still wasn’t sure he believed Kamski wouldn’t benefit from it somehow, making it less generous, but regardless, being able to make an android be able to feel was pretty awesome. Yet, in their line of work, very unfortunate. “What are you gonna do the next time you get shot?” He knew there’d be a next time, too. There always was. Even if he warned Connor to be careful, his warnings were never listened to. He was reckless and now he could feel pain. Hank didn’t see how that would work out well, at all. Though, maybe it would be a good motivator to keep Connor out of trouble. A blessing in disguise, assuming it worked.

––––––

Elijah tilted his head enough to give her better access to his hair, his eyes slipping closed as she combed through. He easily could have done it himself, but it always felt so nice when Chloe did it. He wasn’t going to bother fixing the bun himself anyway. It was late and he didn’t plan on staying up much longer. It had been a long, eventful day and he just wanted to climb in bed and pass out.

If anyone asked, the kiss absolutely was just for science. It had been a means of finding a test result, and it had worked. But really, it was much more than that. Not only was it a test for Connor’s senses, but a test for Connor himself, and if he was honest, maybe it was a test for Elijah too, to see what would happen if he tried. The result he got had been far more than what he could have hoped.

Elijah swatted her hand away when she pinched his cheek, unable to prevent the smile that formed on his face. “Connor is very different. I’m… happy. And no, he doesn’t let me walk all over him. That’s one of the things I like about him. I like quite a few things about him. But I don’t want him to be uncomfortable or feel obligated to be here.”

* * *

For the first time since Elijah kissed him, Connor’s focus zeroed in on something else. Much like Hank, Connor knew that being shot, or stabbed, or bricked, or punched was an inevitability, not a “what if.” It was going to happen, the only question was _when_.

“I don’t know,” Connor answered honestly, with his brows knitted upwards in concern. “I suppose I’ll feel intense agony, and find it harder to focus. Pain is mental for humans too – Did you know? There’s a slight delay between impact and reaction that you can spot if you look for it. It’s one of the ways you can spot a fake,” Connor provided a little unhelpfully, and smiled once again as he looked back up at Hank.

“Elijah has offered to uninstall it the moment I change my mind. We actually agreed that I would uninstall it tonight, but I didn’t want to,” Connor said, leant forwards to better engage with Hank.

“Over the next few weeks, what I experience with the update installed will fine-tune the experiences of every other android who accesses the update. Our biggest concern is that the vast amount of processing needed in the first few moments could overload older–model androids. Elijah is working on a solution to ensure it’s safety… and I suppose I’m now making sure there are no nasty, sensory surprises Elijah didn’t think of.”

A part of Connor wondered if he should keep all of this between just himself, Elijah, and Markus. Connor was so used to burying things out of sight from CyberLife that being open about something so _incredibly_ deviant felt like a risk, despite there being none. But Hank was the one person Connor trusted, fully. Hank could be brusque, he could get angry, be irresponsible with his own health. But more often than not he just _cared_. He was the only person Connor trusted, completely. Every moral dilemma he’d been put in regarding deviants and their well being, Hank had passed with almost zero hesitation.

“I’m sorry for making you worry, Hank. Things kept happening, one after another, and when I agreed to the update everything else slipped my mind. I’m also sorry if this change affects our investigations for a little while, until I get used to new sensations.” Connor sighed, his fingertips steepled together as he looked over at Hank. “Elijah is not the man you think he is. His first impression was a false one, an outlier. Much like you, Hank, he doesn’t enjoy the company of other humans. But he is _incredibly_ empathetic to deviants.”

Logically, a part of Connor wondered if he _had_ been manipulated, the way Hank seemed to be stipulating. Elijah was whip-smart, but Connor didn’t think he was _quite_ that smart. If Connor was being manipulated, and his only suspicion was this one single cautionary thought, Elijah honestly deserved to succeed – what with Connor’s thousands of dollars worth of advanced prototype technology.

No. Connor thought Elijah’s presentation of himself was genuine.

“Your friendship is very important to me, Hank,” Connor concluded. “I would never jeopardize your trust on purpose. I’m sorry for how I worried you this evening.”

––––––

“You’re happy,” Chloe sighed, her voice soft and so incredibly joyous herself. It had been a very long ten years for Elijah, and all of them had noticed the strain on being CEO had added so much stress onto Elijah’s shoulders. Connor couldn’t have arrived on their doorstep, dripping thirium in Markus’ arms, at a better time.

“Connor isn’t like the three of us. He’s different to Markus, too, did you notice?” Chloe said, tying off Elijah’s bun and turning her attention to lightly massaging his head with her fingertips. “Connor is a young deviant. You can see it in the way he still follows parts of his original programming, the way he speaks. He’s only a few months old, but Markus is our age,” and the way she was referring to them both made it clear – Chloe had considered both of them deviant practically from the start.

“But Connor is _not_ a child. And neither is he childish. I really don’t think you or God Himself could make Connor do something he didn’t want to do,” Chloe said as a figure of speech. None of them believed in any kind of God. “I don’t think he has a single thought he doesn’t consider from every possible––” Chloe cut herself off, and redirected. “Actually no, he can be a little stupid regarding his own safety, can’t he? Nevermind.”

Taking a deep sigh, Chloe bent at the waist and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Elijah’s head, stepping away with a light tap to his shoulder to get up.

“I think you made Connor very happy tonight as well,” she said. “Time for bed. You’re already two hours late.”

* * *

Hank knew pain was partly mental, it was just your brain telling you that there was something wrong with your body. It was hard to ignore, but adrenaline sometimes drowned out the feeling. But if androids don’t have adrenaline, Connor’s going to have a hard time ignoring pain when it does happen, and they both knew it would eventually. Connor was reckless.

The more he talked, the more Hank realized just how _stupid_ Connor was. The creep had said he’d uninstall it, but Connor decided against it, for some reason, and he was doing it to _help_ Kamski? None of it sounded like a good idea, or safe for anyone involved.

“Connor, are you sure you should be working while you can feel everything? It’s gonna distract you. Trust me, I know how distracting pain can be, and if something happens, how are you going to be able to keep working that case?” Hank asked, just trying to understand. He wanted Connor to be happy, and he really seemed like he was, but Hank couldn’t help but be suspicious of Kamski’s motives.

Hank sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Okay. I trust you. I don’t trust Kamski, but I trust you. If you say he’s okay, fine. Just… be careful. Don’t let this new update or whatever it is cloud your judgement,” he said, grabbing the TV remote off of the coffee table to turn it off before getting up from the couch. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning for work.”

––––––

All Elijah could really do was smile. He _was_ happy. For the first time in a very long time, he was actually truly happy. It was such a nice feeling, and it was definitely one he hoped would last.

“Connor is different in plenty of ways. He has a lot to learn and experience,” he agreed. That was probably the only real downside to a potential future between them. Connor might change his mind, one he had time to really experience the world. He might realize that there are places better than Detroit, or that he would prefer to be with one of is own kind, and Elijah couldn’t fault him for any of it. He deserved to be happy and live life the way he wanted to. Elijah just didn’t want to get hurt in the process.

Chloe’s words made him laugh. It was very true that no one could make Connor do anything. That seemed to be a reoccurring thing. Connor did some pretty stupid things, too. Chloe wasn’t wrong, at all. Elijah had hoped that maybe the update would give him a little more regard for his own personal safety, but somehow, he really doubted it. Connor was Connor, he was going to do whatever he wanted. He was a deviant now, though it seemed like he didn’t exactly listen prior to that discovery anyway.

With a sigh at her prompting, Elijah stood up to head to bed. It had been a very long, exhausting day, and he was usually in bed by now. He wanted to stay up and work on the code more, but he was crashing fast, the excitement from earlier dying down and allowing him to realize how tired he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three should be coming up soon!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Elijah explore their new relationship. It's rated Explicit for a reason ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> Please see the end notes for comments on Connor's anatomy
> 
> **Follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MutualTrust2038) for updates!**

The next morning started with echoed bangs of revolution. Connor received an alert at 7:48 am that three protests had sprung up around the city; one in the business district, a follow–up at the station, and one outside of CyberLife headquarters. Riot police were already on the way as a preventative measure, but there was unrest and the promise of violence.

Markus was broadcast reiterating his call for peace. His march was made of a combination of humans and androids – the humans blending in with everyone else to lower the risk of sniping, allies Markus had gathered in the last few weeks.

But despite peace being at the forefront of Markus’ call to action, violence is what they received. The riots picked up national news, and just when it looked like they were under control, another one would spring up somewhere else. Homicide cases involving android suspects became political launch pads, and both humans and androids fell in the snow–sludged streets.

They lasted nearly a fortnight, and Connor and Hank were in the thick of it at every turn. Sometimes they stood in Markus’ vicinity, sometimes Connor relayed him information via messages, and sometimes they were permitted a moment to speak – but it was only ever about current events. Connor didn’t find the opportunity to explain the code he was testing. And by god was it being tested.

Elijah’s reports would give him not only a clear rundown of the sensations Connor felt, but of the events that had transpired throughout his day – and Connor was not wrapped in cotton wool, safely tucked in the walls of the precinct.

Pages, upon pages, upon _pages_ of data were sent in the first few days. The feeling of being cold came up the most, but Connor was knocked around, thrown to the floor, skinned himself on the bitumen, came in contact with the butt of a rifle more than once, and the scratch of fingernails as he was grabbed by hands. Evidence had new experiences attached to it. The metallic taste of Thirium, the rusted taste of human blood, of gunpowder, soda, coffee, and a dozen other various things. Connor’s reports included all of it.

And they also included a brief, useless message from Connor. A greeting of some kind, usually, or well wishes. The reports were also sent in the middle of the night when Hank was sleeping and Connor had nothing else to do. That was also when Connor’s thoughts wandered, keeping him company until Hank woke up.

Connor wanted to see Elijah again… _badly_. There was no chance of it, not with the riots, and especially not when Connor’s performance had markedly dropped during such an important investigation. He knew Elijah would understand. It didn’t mean Connor couldn’t be frustrated about it – a feeling that worsened, until Connor found his thoughts sliding back to Elijah at any given pause in activity.

The ambiguity of their relationship set Connor on edge. If Elijah wanted to keep their relationship a friendly workplace one, Connor would be disappointed but understanding. But if he wanted to be friends, if he wanted to be intimate, if he wanted to share more moments like their kiss in the lab, Connor would want that as well. Not knowing, either way, was the worst possible outcome.

And so when Hank stormed off a case at 3:51 pm, Connor seized the opportunity before anyone could call on him.

**TO:** Elijah Kamski

**FROM:** RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 – 57

**MESSAGE:**

> _Elijah,_
> 
> _I will be arriving in 56 minutes. _
> 
> –_Connor_

But in 56 minutes, Connor still didn’t have a reason as to _why_ he was coming. Elijah had stated he was welcome even if he just wanted to spend time, but admitting that _just spending time_ was what he was there for seemed… too obvious. He didn’t want to put Elijah in an awkward position. Connor just wanted to see him.

“Welcome back, Connor,” Chloe beamed when she opened the door for Connor, who was wrapped in an impossibly hideous jacket and scarf he was clearly borrowing from Hank. “It’s so good to see you again. Elijah’s coming now.”

* * *

The last week or so, Elijah had spent his time perfecting the code. The morning after Connor left, he got to work building the sensitivity gauge, even going as far as to make adjustments so that the code would adjust based on the model. He had spent most of the day on his computer, and many of the days after were spent making adjustments based off of Connor’s feedback.

Having Connor as the alpha tester had been wonderful. Just as he’d promised, Connor had reported back each day, giving Elijah so much data to work with. He liked the occasional personal message Connor would attach, too. He found he was starting to miss Connor’s presence. He’d only been there for a day, but as time went on, he wanted him to return. But Elijah saw the news. The DPD had their hands full, and he had no doubt that Connor was busy. The fact that he even found time to send in a report was amazing. Elijah appreciated his dedication.

With all of the feedback and data he received from Connor over the last two weeks, Elijah had managed to create a personalized–to–model sensitivity gauge and patched any problems Connor had encountered. He would have to give him an update when he came over next, just so he didn’t have to keep working with faulty out of date coding.

When Connor sent Elijah a message to announce that he would be there within the hour, Elijah dropped everything he was doing. He took a shower, pulled his hair back into a simple ponytail, just to keep it out of the way while it dried, and got dressed into a plain t-shirt and jeans. He hoped nothing was wrong. Connor’s message had been so short, no explanation, just a time frame in which to expect him. Not that Elijah was complaining at all, but he wasn’t sure what to expect when Connor arrived. He wasn’t sure if maybe he had been hurt, or if he was fine and just wanted to stop by. Maybe he decided he didn’t want the code anymore? Elijah had no way of knowing, and not knowing made him uncomfortable.

But before long, he heard the doorbell ring and Chloe was already gone to answer the door before Elijah even had the chance to get off the couch. He followed after Chloe, arriving in the doorway just in time for her to say that he was on his way.

“Welcome back, Connor,” Elijah greeted with a smile, his eyes looking over Connor’s body. No signs of Thirium, so he likely wasn’t damaged at all. He just looked cold, bundled in an atrocious looking coat. He’d need a new one, one that better suited him and fit him better. “Come in, take off your coat,” he said, motioning for him to come further into the house, out of the cold. “I have the fireplace on, if you’d like to warm up. How have you been?”

* * *

It was Chloe who relieved Connor of his coat and scarf, the second of which was given reluctantly. He’d been cold for two solid weeks, and had stopped complaining about it only on the fourth day. But he noticed that it was a feeling shared by the entire human population of Detroit, and so he’d omitted it from most of his report. It was just something he wasn’t used to.

Elijah’s warm greeting took off any of the residual chill Connor was feeling, and despite himself, he returned the smile Elijah gave him with sincerity. “I would like that a lot. Thank you, Elijah,” Connor said, stepping beside him and following Elijah through the house much the same way he followed Hank to and from an investigation.

“I’ve been busy. Markus has got overall public opinion on his side. But those who disagree with the shift in society are, unfortunately, the loudest. It’s been this way throughout human history, with every conflict. It was to be expected,” Connor sighed, idly rubbing his hands to try and get the chill out of his fingertips. Elijah’s house was warmer than the cab, however, and when they reached the living room, Connor didn’t hesitate to break away and stand beside the fire.

“Unfortunately, this also means that singular crime between humans and androids has increased as well. And when a human attacks an android, in most cases, they lose. Each homicide is a mark against Markus’ name, no matter how malicious or not the attack. But asking someone – deviants – to allow themselves to be murdered so tensions lessen is… not a solution.”

Connor’s expression twitched as he continued to think about it, his gaze trained on the fire for a few moments. But he turned, shifting his attention to Elijah, whom he scanned in milliseconds. He was… just as Connor left him. A little tired, perhaps, and he needed to shave. But Connor’s LED flickered blue three times, before he broke into a smile.

“I hope this isn’t an intrusion. I don’t have a reason for being here.” Belatedly, Connor remembered that he was supposed to tell Hank when he was visiting Elijah, and he hadn’t. Connor flagged the thought, not wanting to bring it up just yet.

* * *

Eliijah led Connor back through the house and towards the living room, listening to him speak as they went. He knew Connor had been busy. What he saw on the news had been insane. The revolution wasn’t taken well by everyone, and it wasn’t a surprise. There were always people who didn’t agree, didn’t see eye to eye with how things were, and they usually were the loudest out of the bunch. Unhappy people were loud and wanted to be heard. That was how the androids got to where they were now, by being loud. Although, they had gone about it peacefully. Humans? Not so much. Yet another reason why Elijah disliked humankind as much as he did. They were destructive and dangerous, and had no regard for anyone but themselves. Humans were flawed.

When they arrived in the living room, Elijah sat back down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other as he relaxed back into the spot he’d been in before Connor arrived. He watched him warm himself up by the fire, continuing to listen, letting Connor fill him in on the events that occurred since they’d last seen each other.

“No, allowing the murder of anyone isn’t a solution. Humans need to accept that this is the new reality and it would be easier on everyone if they moved on from it. Throwing temper tantrums like children isn’t going to solve anything,” Elijah replied with a sigh. Maybe if he spoke publicly, he could influence people to come to terms with deviants. There was only so much Markus and Connor could do on their own. They needed outside help. The president had other concerns.

Seeing Connor’s smile, despite the conversation they just had, made him smile in return. Connor’s smile was infectious, and he didn’t want it to go away. “I don’t mind. I extended the invitation to come when you want. If I thought of it as an intrusion, I wouldn’t have made the offer.”

Elijah stood, a thought crossing his mind. “Actually, I want to show you the modifications I’ve made to the code. I was going to ask if you’d like to update yours. I’ve made quite a few changes. Your feedback was very useful,” he said, a little more excited than he had really intended to let on. He took Connor’s hand and led him through the house, to the lab again. He’d kept the extra chair at his desk in case Connor returned or Chloe wanted to keep him company while he worked. He released Connor’s hand to sit down in front of his computer, logging in and navigating to the code to show Connor again.

* * *

The way Connor’s smile stretched when Elijah began talking about the code was a dead give–away. He could see the infinitesimal shift in Elijah’s breathing, the spark in his expression. Elijah didn’t need to hold his hand to guide Connor to the lab, he was more than capable of walking there with his eyes closed at this point.

“I’m glad my feedback has been useful,” Connor replied, unable to quite get a hold of the excitement that speared through himself as well. Connor threaded their fingers as they walked. He’d seen others, at the protests, hold hands this way, and decided quickly that yes, he liked it too.

Two weeks was a lot of time for Connor to analyse, and then over–analyse, how Elijah might be feeling. He’d settled on three conclusions, and cycled through them depending on his mood: Elijah enjoyed the intimacy with Connor and would want to share it again; Elijah had been conducting an experiment, their kiss had been an emotional outlier, and he would not want to share intimacy with Connor again; Elijah would apologise, and express regret. The suggestion of his lab and the initiation of holding Connor’s hand told him exactly which of his conclusions it was.

Connor did not take the seat. When Elijah brought the code up onto the screen, Connor instead shifted to stand behind Elijah, gripping the back of his chair and leaning down over him. His fingertips touched the bottom of the screen, the information rapidly scrolling as Connor read through it all.

“You’ve been on my mind a lot these past two weeks,” Connor said, genuine, but distracted by the code. “I think about you quite often. I wonder what you’re doing, or what you might say to a thought I have.” Blinking, Connor’s fingers lifted away from the monitor once he’d finished reading. “You really have taken my feedback to heart. I like your consideration to modify it for each individual model. It’s more work, but greater care.”

* * *

The way Connor’s hand felt in his was so nice, and he almost didn’t want to let go. But, he needed his hands for his computer, and they had plenty of time after Connor looked at the code. Elijah was excited to show him, hear his comments. He hadn’t even shown Chloe yet. He wanted Connor to see it first, before he got the girls’ hopes up with anything.

Elijah watched the screen as Connor read through the code, until he spoke up. He turned, looking up at him from his seat at his desk. Their close proximity made his heart race, his face flushing just so at the realization. He was positive Connor would notice. It was nice to hear that he hadn’t been the only one unable to stop thinking about the other. Working on the code had only done so much to distract him. Even then, he wasn’t really distracted from Connor, because the code was linked with him. To think about the code meant to think about Connor, and the two weeks that had passed had been rough.

“I’ve thought about you often too,” he replied honestly. There was no point in trying to hide it. “If you’re curious about what I’ve been doing, this is it.” He motioned to the computer screen. “This is all I’ve worked on since we last met. I’m quite happy with how it’s turned out. I think it’s ready for the next testing phase.” That is, assuming Connor and Chloe didn’t see any errors in it. If it was fine, it was ready. All he’d have to do is make sure older models can handle the code and he would be ready to release it to the public. It was exciting, and he couldn’t have done it without Connor.

“I thought it would be more useful for older models if I adjusted the sensitivity gauge for them myself. It makes it easier for their processors to handle,” he said with a small shrug. It had been _a lot_ of work, but it was going to be well worth it in the long run, he figured.

Once Connor was finished and had let go of the computer, Elijah reached up to thread his fingers through Connor’s hair, bringing him down for a much needed kiss. He hadn’t quite realized until their first kiss how starved for attention he really was. The girls gave him plenty of attention, they doted on him in a sisterly way, but it just wasn’t the same as _this_. “I missed you,” he said softly once he pulled back, barely above a whisper. Two weeks was far too long. He didn’t want to have to go that long again.

Elijah supposed he _could_ visit Connor from time to time, if he was welcome. He doubted he was, at least at Lieutenant Anderson’s house, but he could go to the precinct at some point. He’d be able to see Connor, and pay his brother a visit. He hadn’t seen Gavin in quite some time, despite sending holiday cards to each other often along with the occasional dinner date on birthdays. He’d have to ask if it would be okay to stop by, if Connor’s work too him away for long periods of time again.

* * *

Connor’s gaze settled on the flush in Elijah’s cheeks even as he was spoken to. There were 17 obvious errors, which given that Elijah was human and that the update was thousands of lines of code took Connor aback a little. That was a remarkably clean run. It had also not been shown to Chloe, and that in itself was what stuck with Connor. Chloe was Elijah’s safety net, she made sure he didn’t lose face or that any intellectual stumbles could show through. Elijah was the most intelligent man Connor knew of, and he was flushed, waiting with baited breath for Connor to be the first to read.

He didn’t need to breathe, but Connor’s breath still caught as Elijah’s hand wound through his hair and guided him down to be kissed. It was an incredible relief, and Connor hummed into it. His hand slid up the side of Elijah’s face, his fingers hooked in his jaw. And when they parted, Connor’s LED fluttered a very contented blue. When Elijah said he’d missed Connor, he huffed out a surprised laugh, and followed it with a second kiss.

“I thought about you _constantly_. I think that means i missed you, too,” Connor murmured. Shifting ever so slightly closer, Connor’s thumbs rested on Elijah’s cheeks, the rest of his fingers splayed loosely across his jawline. He traced the colour that was flushed there, oddly proud that he was the cause of it. Elijah was usually so composed and entirely unflappable, making Connor incredibly glad he’d chosen to stand close instead of sit.

“For androids, our LEDs indicate our state of mind,” Connor said quietly, resting his forehead against Elijah’s. He liked the feeling of the five o’clock shadow on Elijah’s jaw, the imperfectness of it when he knew Elijah must be clean shaven in the mornings. He liked the texture of it beneath his fingers, and followed it with his fingertips down the front of Elijah’s throat. “The colour in your cheeks is your indicator, Elijah. It’s ratting you out,” he teased, and shifted again, pressing even closer.

Elijah’s chair creaked as Connor rested part of his weight on the armrest. In truth, he’d barely glanced at the code, but it wouldn’t take him long to look a little closer when he wasn’t so otherwise occupied. His hand slid up the back of Elijah’s neck, and when he kissed him this time, it came with a pent–up groan. For two weeks, Elijah had _plagued_ him. If there was a spare moment to think, Connor had spent it wondering what he was doing, what he was thinking, how he was feeling, or recounting what had happened. The places Elijah had touched Connor felt branded into his skin. He wanted to know every single thing about him. He felt possessed.

Connor’s mouth opened as the kiss deepened, and he noticeably trembled as a softer sound was pulled out of him. The feeling of being unable to think had returned, and Connor found he didn’t mind it so much with the circumstances.

The kiss ended abruptly so Elijah can catch his breath, leaving Connor restless and his hands roaming. “I like your fingers in my hair,” he whispered, barely audible, his eyes closed as he tucked his cheek against Elijah’s. “Did you still want to discuss your code?”

* * *

Elijah was very quickly learning that he _loved_ hearing the noises Connor made. He was always so composed and put together, almost serious and formal, in a way, but since installing the update, Connor was different. It was like he’d let his walls down too, allowing himself to be more himself around Elijah. Gradually, since the day Connor had been rushed in for repairs, Elijah had been letting his guard down, trusting Connor more and more with pieces of himself with each visit. He still had his secrets, kept things hidden, but he was opening up. It wasn’t something he did often, but Connor was different and Elijah found he didn’t _want_ to hide things from him.

Another thing that Elijah was learning was that he loved kissing Connor. He loved touching him. His perfect skin and his hair were so soft, his lips even softer. Elijah never thought he would be so… _needy._ He didn’t want Connor to leave. He didn’t want him to stop touching him. As much as he loved to touch Connor, he loved when Connor touched him in return. He was so gentle and exploratory, maybe even a little unsure.

Elijah hummed happily against Connor’s lips as he came in for another kiss. Hearing that Connor missed him too felt _nice_. He didn’t truly doubt that Connor liked him, but maybe a part of him did. The part that was afraid of rejection and betrayal, the part of him that wasn’t a hopeless romantic, his more rational side. He had been weary at first, after he’d kissed him for the first time, unsure if maybe Connor just liked the feeling of being kissed and kissing back, rather than Elijah himself. But now, hearing that Connor missed him and being kissed again, most of his worries were washed away.

When Connor mentioned his LED, Elijah stayed quiet, letting him continue before commenting. He didn’t quite understand his reasons behind stating the LED’s purpose. Elijah created them, of course he knew their function. But at the mention of his face, he understood, and the comment may have even made his cheeks flush more. Of course, Connor noticed. Connor noticed everything, no doubt. But he didn’t comment, after all, instead letting himself drown in Connor’s kiss, the hand in his hair tightening as his other hand reached up to touch his shoulder. With each sound Connor made, he got one in return as Elijah grew more and more desperate. Their position wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t get very close. Not as close as he wanted to be, anyway. He doubted he _could_ be as close as he felt he needed to be.

Once they broke the kiss so he could breathe, Elijah took that opportunity to let go just long enough to stand and turn around. He kicked the chair out of the way and pulled Connor in close again, his hands on his shoulders to guide him closer. He leaned back against the desk for support, almost sitting on it. “The code can wait,” Elijah breathed in response, one of his hands snaking up Connor’s neck and back into his hair again. “How long can you stay?”

He knew Connor would have to leave eventually, even though he didn’t want him to. He’d let Connor move in, if he thought he would. But Hank was in the way. Elijah lived almost an hour away, and Connor had a job to do. He knew it wouldn’t be practical to have him stay indefinitely. It was too long of a drive to work each day. That didn’t mean Connor couldn’t spend the night every now and then, though. He definitely wanted him to, but it felt almost too soon to ask.

* * *

Connor’s LED flickered yellow for barely an instant when Elijah let go, only to shift back to blue and be replaced with a smile. He never used to smile, unless he was trying to put someone at ease. They’d come easier since his deviancy, but it was Elijah, and the update, that really triggered them.

“I was hoping you would say that,” Connor said in a rush, allowing Elijah to guide him, and taking the initiative to push up flush when Elijah leaned back against the desk. The proximity was _stunning_. Connor could feel Elijah’s warmth beneath his own clothing, and he pressed a hand against the small of Elijah’s back, holding him close.

“My shift at the Detroit Police Department starts at 8:00am, or whenever Hank arrives,” Connor said, his lips brushing up Elijah’s neck. “I still need to inform Hank that I’m here, and provide a way for him to call if there’s another riot.” It was said distractedly as Connor kissed the skin beneath Elijah’s ear, running a trail of them up behind the shell of it.

Connor’s touches were exploratory. He chased any trembles or shivers, keeping a vague note of how Elijah’s heart rate was increasing. Nothing dangerous, of course, and it gave Connor a thrill to feel Elijah react in a way that was so base, and out of his control.

He didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know what Elijah would find nice. Connor didn’t know to bite or nip, that teeth could be pleasurable. He just loved the hand in his hair, the warmth of him. He loved the excitement of it all, how _alive_ he felt, the different textures of Elijah’s skin.

The Traci programming was _there_. It would take nothing for Connor to access it, download it, and look into it. But that felt so… lewd. It felt degrading. He wasn’t a toy, and Connor knew Elijah didn’t expect him to be. He would never _want_ Connor behave that way, would he? The acts performed by those programs were pornographic, not intimate. They were to facilitate a purpose. This was more than that.

“I feel so emotionally rewarded every time we’re together,” Connor blurted, but it was said quietly, and pressed just beneath Elijah’s jaw. “Your presence is moreish. _You’re so distracting_,” he breathed, dancing around what would have been a simpler statement – That Connor liked him, very much.

* * *

That smile really was infectious. Elijah had noticed that Connor seemed to be smiling frequently, something he hadn’t really seen him do before installing the update. Just knowing that made him smile wider, proud that _he_ had done something to make Connor so happy.

Feeling Connor’s body pressed flush against his own brought out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling weak and too warm. It wasn’t a bad feeling though, not at all. It felt _amazing_, and he didn’t want Connor to move away. They hadn’t been quite this close before, and he honestly couldn’t think of a good reason _why_. The proximity and the weight of Connor’s hand on his back felt so nice, and he was thankful for the desk behind him, helping to keep him upright.

As Connor moved in towards his neck, Elijah tilted his head, happily allowing him to explore. He let out shuddered breaths as he felt Connor’s lips on his skin, his eyes closing so he could just focus on the feeling. He let his own hands explore, one staying in Connor’s hair, simply running his fingers through it while the other trailed down his chest, exploring.

“You can use my phone to call him, if you’d like,” Elijah offered. It would probably be wise to give the lieutenant a way to contact him, regardless. If anything happened to Connor on the job, having a direct line to Elijah would come in handy. But in the meantime, they had _plenty_ of time before Connor had to be back in the city, and he planned on utilizing every second he could. “You could stay the night,” he suggested, though a little unsure. “If you don’t have to be back at the precinct until 8, you’re welcome to stay. If you want.” He hoped he would, but his nerves were making him second guess it all.

Elijah didn’t mind at all that Connor was inexperienced. He liked it, really. Being inexperienced meant that he would do whatever felt good, rather than what he thought was expected of him, and the honesty of it all felt almost reassuring. It had been so long since Elijah had even considered being with anyone. So long, he’d practically given up. No human he had met in his entire lifetime fit. There was always something. So many people were just after his money and fame, or wanted him for his appearance, not his personality. He would admit that they never quite got to _know_ his personality, but that was beside the point. None of it felt _real_. This was different.

Hearing Connor’s confession made Elijah give a breathless laugh and brought a smile to his face again. “Why do you think it took two weeks to finish the code?” He’d been distracted plenty of times. It had been impossible not to think about Connor. He had tried to focus, but whenever he would think of an edit to make, he would think of Connor. He was the alpha tester, after all, so it was only natural for him to think of Connor when making modifications, but he often found his mind wandering, reliving their kisses, hoping for more in the near future. Two weeks of waiting had been torture.

“Will you stay?” he asked again, sounding hopeful. He _knew_ the girls would go crazy if he did. They gossiped enough after Connor left when they’d had their first kiss. They hadn’t quite stopped talking about it, just an occasional question or comment in passing that usually got them an eye roll rather than a real answer.

* * *

Elijah’s question gave Connor pause. He’d never stayed at anyone’s house other than Hank’s. He’d never had any reason to. Evenings were… quiet. Connor’s system was advanced, and self–charging. Much like a car battery, the more he moved the longer it lasted. Connor slept when he’d processed an incredibly large amount of information, allowing his processor to calibrate and organise at a much quicker speed, deleting things he’d saved twice, and automatically defragmenting. But it was a talk that took, at most, twenty minutes.

Connor often found himself alone at night, with nothing to do, and nobody to talk to. It had been that way from the start. But if he spent the night, Connor would have Elijah’s attention until he fell asleep. And once he was, Connor wondered – would the girls enjoy his company? The possibility of spending the night with Elijah, and then with other androids, made Connor’s LED flash erratically with pent–up excitement.

“Yes, I would like that,” Connor said in a rush, his expression twitching ever so slightly. His face tucked, putting an inch between Connor and Elijah, and Connor drew in a deep, steadying breath. He was so _happy_. It was overwhelming, and burned through Connor, stealing his composure entirely. He kissed Elijah again, his jaw trembling a little at the start. He didn’t know what to do with the information that Elijah’s work had suffered due to his feelings as well, that Connor’s experience was validated by his. He didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that asking Connor to stay had been nerve-wracking for Elijah. He didn’t know what to do with how much he _liked_ Elijah, and how the feeling was completely mutual. Connor usually, _always_, knew what to do.

The kiss spiked, heating up as it had before. But Connor doesn’t break when Elijah needs air, he simply waits, kissing Elijah’s chin and the corner of his lips until it can resume. The hand not braced at the small of Elijah’s back cupped Elijah’s face, and Connor _keened_ as it turned hot and heavy. Connor’s LED flicked to yellow, overwhelmed as he’s swept up in the passion of the kiss. He’d have Elijah all night. Connor wouldn’t have to say goodbye for _hours_, almost another entire day.

* * *

When Connor agreed to stay the night, Elijah couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, wide and genuine, truly happy. He was looking forward to spending so much time with him. He wasn’t sure he’d even sleep that night. Androids didn’t have to sleep, though they could if they wanted to. Sleep had its purposes for an android, but it wasn’t really necessary and non–deviants, at least, didn’t have much of a reason to do it. Deviants, however, might choose to if they enjoyed it. It hadn’t really occurred to him before now. The girls had each other and they usually had something to do with their time. He never really thought to ask if they chose to sleep or if they even wanted to.

Elijah met Connor halfway for the next kiss, nipping at Connor’s lower lip. He happily deepened the kiss, letting out a soft, muffled moan. His wandering hand found the hem of Connor’s shirt, slipping underneath. His fingers felt along Connor’s side, finding slightly raised skin where he’d welded Connor’s previous wounds closed, almost like invisible scars. Connor’s skin was otherwise smooth and warm to the touch, and it felt so comforting to have skin on skin contact.

As much as he wished he didn’t have to, Elijah had to come up for air at some point. He liked that Connor didn’t seem to break away though, just moving enough that Elijah could catch his breath. He turned his head just enough to catch Connor’s lips again once he’d had enough. He was content to stay like that, perched on his desk, pressed so close to Connor and wrapped up in his kisses, but he wanted _more_. Connor’s noises really didn’t help, either. He was afraid to ask for more, afraid that maybe he would scare him away. He didn’t want to move too quickly and get too invested, though he was sure he was already past the point of “too invested.”

Elijah broke the kiss when he needed air again, but instead of going in for another kiss, he moved to press soft, teasing kisses to Connor’s jawline, to his ear, giving the lobe a gentle nip before moving on to kiss behind his ear, letting his hot breath tease Connor’s skin along the way. He gradually moved down Connor’s neck, kissing and nipping at the skin, idly thinking to himself that not allowing androids to bruise had been a design flaw he should have anticipated. He was a little disappointed he wouldn’t be able to litter Connor’s neck with marks, but he didn’t let himself linger on it for long.

“I’m glad you chose to say,” he mumbled softly against the skin of Connor’s neck, slowly starting to kiss and bite is way back up to Connor’s lips again. “I like spending time with you.”

* * *

Connor didn’t answer Elijah. Instead his jaw tipped up and to the side, his mouth opening in a breathless smile. Connor didn’t need the air, but much like blinking and idle movement, he did them without thinking for the comfort of humans around him. All of them did it. Connor twitched slightly with every nip and bite, and he shivered _hard_ in Elijah’s arms as his eyes slipped closed, and he allowed himself to feel.

Connor’s body curved where Elijah’s hands roamed. His LED was still yellow, and Connor’s mouth was slightly open, both hands curled into Elijah’s hair. And without anywhere to muffle the sound, Connor’s moan at being bitten was light and clear, filling the quiet room. Pleasure sparked up and down Connor’s neck, across the skin at his waist, and in his lips as he chewed on them. It was a slow, acute kind of torture, and Connor didn’t want it to cease. “Do that again,” he breathed, referring to the teeth on his neck, but pressing against the hand beneath his shirt.

Connor was restless, wound up, with no idea how to channel it. Every nip of his skin, every sound Elijah made, was intoxicating. It was overwhelming. And it’s a moment before Connor realised it was too fast; it was too much. It was a realisation Connor had when they’re kissing again. He was trembling, and it was Connor who broke the kiss this time. He pressed his face into the crook of Elijah’s neck as he tried to calm down, feverish and wound up and very tempted to start back up again.

Connor’s fingers traced exact circles somewhere around Elijah’s hip, and he fiddled with the fabric of Elijah’s pants as he tried to pull himself back together. “Would you like to be with me monogamously?” Connor asked quietly, still trembling a little, but getting a grip little by little. He was disheveled again, completely loose where he’d tucked himself against Elijah. “I’ve never been very good at asking for things like the cool kids,” Connor added when he realised the wording of his question had been incorrect. He just wanted Elijah to be his.

* * *

The way Connor’s body shivered at his touch only encouraged Elijah to do more, his hand exploring more of his body, teasing up and down is side. His kisses and bites grew less gentle, though still not quite rough. The hands in his hair felt wonderful, and he really didn’t want any of it to end. The sound that left Connor’s lips had been _beautiful_, and Elijah concluded then and there that he needed to hear more. The fact that any one of the girls could possibly hear the sounds didn’t even occur to him, and if they did, he didn’t care. If there was a heaven, this was what he believed it would be like, surrounded by nothing but pleasure, genuine happiness, and _love_. He’d always known that he loved Connor. He loved all of his creations, even those he didn’t directly contribute to, but this was so different.

At Connor’s request, Elijah continued to kiss and bite at Connor’s neck and jaw, dipping down to his collarbone before working back up again to capture his lips in another kiss. He wanted to hear more of Connor’s sounds, to feel him go weak under his touch. He loved the way Connor was reacting to each thing he did, each sound and shiver urging him on. He only stopped when Connor broke the kiss to hide his face against Elijah’s neck, and it only took Elijah a second to realize he was likely overwhelmed. He didn’t push. He knew it could be dangerous to take things further if Connor was already overwhelmed. So instead, he reassuringly rubbed Connor’s back, his hand still underneath his shirt, while the hand in Connor’s hair gently carded through in an attempt to comfort him and help him relax.

As much as Elijah didn’t want it to stop, taking a moment to calm down was probably for the best. He didn’t want to get too carried away and take things too far too fast. Connor was new to all of this, and he didn’t want to rush him.

Connor’s sudden question along with the statement that followed made Elijah laugh. He turned his head just enough to kiss Connor’s cheek, smiling wide. “I’d love to,” he answered softly. He thought it was fairly obvious that he wanted to be with Connor, but hearing him ask and being able to say the words out loud seemed to validate everything. He couldn’t believe how quickly he’d fallen for Connor, or how well he fit in his life. No one had ever fit even remotely as well as Connor did. He felt _whole_.

“How are you feeling?” Elijah asked, still gently playing with Connor’s hair, his other hand caressing his back. He’d been a little concerned when he’d realized Connor might have been too overwhelmed. Maybe the threat of self–destruction wasn’t really gone, if it was possible for him to become too overwhelmed simply by feeling alone. He’d have to give Connor the update, to hopefully remove the risk altogether.

* * *

Connor shifted, and the smile he pressed into Elijah’s neck was his widest one to date. Emotion flooded Connor, flashing his LED a telling yellow. Happiness was front and centre, but there was something else that dominated as well. Connor couldn’t place it, but whatever it was, it made him feel safe. _Appreciated_. And Connor realised he trusted Elijah more than he did Hank. More than Markus. He could tell Elijah anything, and Connor was sure it wouldn’t backfire.

When asked how he felt, Connor released a very quiet _groan_ against Elijah’s neck, feathering a few short kisses against his skin. “I believe the colloquialism for how I’m feeling is ‘_horny_’, Elijah,” Connor said, completely deadpan. And true to form, Connor was still trembling slightly, _clinging_ to Elijah as though he were reluctant to let go. Which he was. “I’ll be happy to have sex with you against your lab computer table one day, Elijah. But perhaps not the very first time.” Again, it was dry, but that one did have Connor smirking against Elijah’s jaw.

Shifting again, Connor rubbed his fingers against Elijah’s bites, where he could still feel the perfect sting and ache. He kissed him, but this time, they were short, and almost sweet in the way he delivers them. “I need a way to call Hank.”

* * *

Elijah doubted he would ever get used to the way Connor could so nonchalantly say half of the things he said. He snorted a laugh, unable to stop himself. He loved Connor’s brutal honesty. He didn’t seem to try to hide what he was feeling when he was asked. Elijah appreciated the honesty, though, even if the things Connor said made his face flush an even deeper shade of red than it already had been. Hearing Connor say that he _wanted_ to have sex with him at all was enough for Elijah to want to tote him off to the bedroom, but he refrained. For now, at least. The only things stopping him were the girls they’d have to pass along the way and Lieutenant Anderson. Connor needed to call him.

Elijah returned Connor’s kisses happily before finally removing his hand from his hair to instead reach into his back pocket to retrieve his cell phone. He unlocked it before holding it out for Connor to take. “Tell him to save the number. If he ever needs to reach me, or you, when you’re here, this is the number he would need to call. I disconnected my public line a couple of weeks ago.”

He figured they both should probably calm down. Things were happening so fast and he didn’t really want to slow down, though the rational part of his brain as telling him they should. It would be time for dinner soon, and Chloe would be coming to retrieve him. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to tell them. He knew they’d be curious. They always were. He didn’t want to hide his relationship with Connor. He wasn’t going to announce it to the world, but he didn’t see any point in hiding it from those around them. He just knew if he told them, he’d never hear the end of it. But was that really such a bad thing?

“Once you’re off the phone, I’d like to finish looking at the code…” Elijah said, though he didn’t particularly _want_ to. But it would help distract themselves from each other, just for a short while. “I’m sure you noticed a few errors. If you correct them for me, we can install the patch. Chloe should be making dinner soon, so we don’t have much time left to ourselves.” After dinner, though, they could go wherever they wanted and do whatever they wanted.

* * *

Connor’s hand faded to white as he accepted the phone, and it only took moments for him to leech Elijah’s number, reception, and anything left in the memory of the device. Photos, messages, and personal contacts named just a few. But the way Connor did it was so blatant and unhidden that it was clear he didn’t think anything of it.

“Thank you,” Connor said politely, and the screen of the phone flickered as Connor entered Hank’s number. He had to dial it twice before Hank picked up on the third.

“Hello?” Hank sounded incredibly unfriendly.

“Hello, Hank,” Connor sounded as though it were his first Christmas.

As they spoke, it became clear that Hank was not comfortable with Connor spending the night. Connor declined an offer to be picked up, reassured Hank that he’d meet him at the precinct the next day, and had to ask Hank twice to save the number he was calling with. But despite the difficulty of the conversation, Connor was only half invested in it. His attention was centered on Elijah; gently correcting his clothing, carefully tucking his hair out of his eyes, and finding excuses to touch him in other fleeting ways.

“Yes, I will call you if anything happens,” Connor said. “Have you saved Elijah’s–– Okay, I had to check. I will see you tomorrow. Yes, I will. Goodnight.”

The _moment_ Connor had finished on the phone, he stepped back into Elijah’s space. His attention was addictive, and Connor took the excuse to reach behind Elijah, and slipped the phone back into his rear pocket. He lingered, winding an arm around Elijah’s waist, and pressed a kiss against the shell of his ear. “Thank you,” Connor murmured again, before he stepped back, and took a steadying breath as he turned to face the computer.

Connor touched just his first two fingers to the monitor as he re–read Elijah’s code. As he refocused on what had been written, little by little, Connor’s posture re–straightened. His shoulders squared, his chin lifted. And Connor’s eyelids fluttered as he methodically went through and fixed tiny errors, and tidied up code that could be said more succinctly. Chloe’s edits always looked as though they’d been done by a real person. Connor’s edits were machine–like, and made the code look like an update for the RK800 that could be used with later models. It took him almost ten minutes to complete, with the monitor scrolling much slower through the code than the first time he’d given it a glance. But it calmed Connor down, and gave his incredibly complex brain something else to chew on besides thoughts of Elijah.

“This piece of coding is a testament to your procrastination,” Connor said once he’d finished, lowering his fingers from the screen and turning to look at him. Doing so was a mistake, because Connor immediately began to scan Elijah, making note of every single human erogenous zone, and filing it away for later. Now he knew how biting was used…

“I made 78 edits in total. There were only 17 mistakes, but I made everything more succinct, so the download and storage will be smaller. This will make a greater difference to older models, not so much newer ones.”

* * *

When Elijah had given Connor his phone, he hadn’t quite expected him to interface with it like he did. If he was entirely honest, he wasn’t even sure what exactly Connor would find on it. He had quite a few photos, though most of them were of the girls or random objects he needed to have on hand for reference later. He didn’t take very many pictures of himself, though he as sure he had at least one with his half brother, and maybe one with his brother’s mother. His taste in music was all over the place, though he didn’t have much saved to the phone. As for contacts, he had numbers for each of the girls, Connor, Markus, the DPD, local fire department, a few CyberLife employees, Gavin, and Gavin’s mother. There really wasn’t much information in the phone that Elijah would mind Connor seeing, aside from Gavin’s existence in his life. Or, lack thereof, really. He was well aware that Connor had been assigned to the same precinct that Gavin Reed worked at, though surprisingly, Elijah hadn’t heard a word about it from him. He’d expected at least one accusatory remark about how Elijah “probably arranged for an android detective to be sent there to make his life hell,” or something along those lines, but none ever came. He’d been a little disappointed, honestly. Regardless, no one in Gavin’s life, aside from their parents, knew they were related, and they had both decided to keep it that way. But now, if Connor dared to snoop, he would likely be able to figure it out on his own. Elijah didn’t particularly mind, but he knew Gavin would, and he’d never hear the end of it.

Elijah didn’t comment on it though, instead simply watching Connor while he called the lieutenant. He took their time apart to really _look_ at him, studying his face, the way his mouth moved when he talked. His hair was already ruffled, no longer combed back and neat like it always was. He couldn’t help but smile while Connor readjusted his clothes and hair so gently. He kept his hands to himself, instead resting his hands on the desk he was still leaning against. The conversation didn’t sound like it was particularly friendly, at least on Hank’s part. Elijah knew very well that the lieutenant didn’t approve of Connor spending time with him, though he didn’t really care. He’d never cared much about what other people thought. If he did, he would have never made it to where he was.

When Connor closed the distance between them once he was off the phone, Elijah smiled wider. He still kept his hands on the desk though, having at least some self-control. He wanted to get the code out of the way so he wouldn’t have to worry about it later, but Connor really wasn’t making it easy. The kiss against his ear made him shudder, and Elijah was very quickly learning that Connor was _such a fucking tease_. Whether he knew that he was or not was still up for debate.

Once Connor moved to direct his attention to the computer, Elijah let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it until Connor had moved out of his space. He turned to rest his hip against the desk and folded his arms across his chest, watching Connor while he revised the code. It took Connor long enough that it seemed they were both able to calm down. It was for the best, really. Elijah needed to eat at some point, and they couldn’t exactly stay in the lab all night long. He was expecting Chloe to come knock on the door at any second, assuming she decided to start dinner at the same time she usually did. So, he kept his hands to himself, even though he was very tempted to close the gap between them and play with Connor’s hair while he worked. It wasn’t wise to distract him though, not while he was working on editing the code.

Hearing Connor’s comment, all Elijah could really do was shrug. “I was distracted,” he admitted. He wasn’t only distracted by Connor, though. He had too many things to do with CyberLife and such little staff. Connor was the main distraction though. Elijah was impressed by Connor’s revisions, even though he really shouldn’t have expected anything less. “Thank you. If you think it’s ready, you can download it. You won’t need to worry about the sensitivity gauge, but the other modifications are important enough that you _should_ download it. Once you do, we can go back to the living room. If Chloe’s on time, dinner should be ready soon.”

* * *

Returning to the living room meant being with Chloe, Cleo, and Claire. He took a moment to consider how he’d feel about sharing intimacy with Elijah in front of them, and didn’t have to consider long before deciding that he didn’t think it would be something he’d enjoy. Public displays of affection were displayed by both sides. Connor had seen androids kiss at marches, and he’d seen human teenagers kiss in public spaces with the same vigour as he and Elijah had against his table. Logically, there was no reason why they shouldn’t. The girls wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t even a matter of good manners.

Connor decided he would be comfortable with holding Elijah’s hand. He would be comfortable with chaste kisses and fleeting touches. Anything more than that felt lewd, and Connor surprised himself with the realisation – that it would make him uncomfortable.

The code was in Connor’s mind, but just to be safe, he reached out and pressed four whitened fingers against the monitor. His LED went blank, quickly redrawing itself in fragments to indicate the download completion rate. And when it shined blue once again, Connor grunted lightly, and dragged his fingers across his cheek and jaw. The very tip of Connor’s tongue traced back and forth across his top lip, and he shivered hard, as though someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt.

“Who are you planning to give it to first?” Connor asked, smiling as little as he slowly explored the new sensation of his skin. His nerve endings felt much more complex. He could feel the smoothness of his own fingertips, he can feel that they weren’t made of skin. And all that realisation did was make Connor want to feel Elijah’s hands on him instead. It’s a thought he pushed away with marked discipline. They’d only just broken apart and gotten hold of themselves. “I know you want to give it to Markus. But I think it would be better manners to let Chloe, Cleo, and Claire have it first.”

“That was going to be _my_ argument, too.” Connor turned, and had he been human, he might have mistaken Claire for Chloe as she stepped inside. She smiled up at Connor, and was wearing a very well-tailored black dress that exposed her midriff and shoulder blades. “Dinner was set down seven minutes ago, Elijah. Chloe was too chicken to get you herself.”

* * *

Elijah didn’t really plan on spending much time with the girls. If Connor wanted to, then he would, but they only had until 8 in the morning and while that was still more than half a day away, it didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to keep Connor to himself, and as much as he loved them, he didn’t exactly want to do anything more than innocent with Connor in front of the girls. He planned on eating dinner, then escaping to the bedroom for some uninterrupted privacy.

The download didn’t seem to take very long. Connor was incredibly quick, and all he really needed to install were the changes they had made. Elijah hadn’t really expected the update to change too much of what Connor was already experiencing, but his reactions upon download completion made him curious. He was tempted to reach out and touch him, to experiment and see what exactly had changed, but they didn’t have much longer to wait until they could sneak off on their own. He could wait. He wouldn’t like it, but he could.

Elijah had been about to respond when he heard Claire’s voice cut in. He hadn’t even heard her knock or open the door. Had he really been paying that much attention to Connor? He turned to face Claire, giving her a smile and a nod in acknowledgement. “Actually, I was planning on giving it to you first, if you still want it. It should be complete now, as long as there aren’t any issues. There _shouldn’t_ be any problems with it, but it hasn’t been beta tested yet. If you still want to test it, we can install it tomorrow.”

It was exciting, now that it was progressing. Connor had been the alpha tester, and he had been so helpful. Now they needed a beta tester, just to work out any final kinks before he felt comfortable releasing it to the public. He had wanted to give it to Markus, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it would be safer to give it to one of the girls, so he could better monitor their reactions to it. If Claire was happy with it a week from now with no problems coming up, he could release it and move on to his next project. He was excited to see Claire’s reactions to everything, experiencing the world for the first time just as Connor had. He knew it would be just as fascinating to see.

Hearing that Chloe had chickened out of coming to retrieve him made him chuckle and shake his head. Of course she did, and of course Claire was brave enough. She and Cleo were so nosy, though he couldn’t really blame them. He knew they were curious and happy for him. Turning his attention back to Connor, he reached out to take his hand. “Let’s go. You can taste some of my dinner, if you’d like,” he offered, leading Connor past Claire and towards the living room, to the dining table. He let go of Connor’s hand to sit in his usual seat, leaving Connor free to sit wherever he wanted. “After dinner, we could sit with the girls for a while, watch something on TV, if you want. Or we could go to my room for the night,” he said, giving him the options now rather than later. Really, he just wanted to know what Connor wanted to do. He knew what _he_ wanted to do, but he would leave it up to Connor to decide.

In the meantime, Elijah started eating, making sure to separate very small amounts of everything on his plate for Connor to try. The android anatomy wasn’t built to eat or drink anything other than thirium, but very small amounts were fine enough. In hindsight, he should have installed a functioning stomach in each of his android models, like he had in the YK series, but he hadn’t really anticipated other models having a need or desire to eat or try different flavors. “Do you want to try any of this?” Elijah asked, motioning to the sectioned off bits with his fork. “I think you might like it.”

* * *

Connor made note of the subtle differences in Claire’s behaviour, although the way he did it was cursory and in passing – just another piece of information in his surroundings. He smiled when Elijah took his hand, and immediately shifted so their fingers were laced the same way they’d been when he’d been led in.

“Ooh. Yes please, Elijah,” Connor replied happily. He kept forgetting he could _taste_ things, now. Despite some of the food in Hank’s house, coffee from Hank’s cup, and whatever evidence he put in his mouth, it was mostly unused.

Claire picked up any of Elijah’s mugs or dishes and followed them, but her eyes kept focused on Connor until they stepped back into the kitchen. When Chloe saw Connor – and how mused and roughed up he was – she covers her eyes with _obvious_ regret. But Cleo laughed, and stepped up to Connor, pulling him down a little so she could fix his hair, and straightening his clothes with a few sharp flicks of her hands over his shoulders.

“It’s good to see you again, Connor. I’m Cleo,” she said, giving his shirt one final tug, and then lightly pushing him towards Elijah.

“It’s good to meet you, Cleo,” Connor said happily, sitting beside Elijah and looking over when he’s asked a question. His expression creased, pulling into a question. “I have zero interest in television, Elijah,” Connor said flatly, and Claire’s eyebrows raised with a laugh she bit down at the frankness of it.

“You still work at the precinct, don’t you, Connor?” Claire asked, looking over at him while she washed Elijah’s lunch dishes. “Have people adjusted to you being a deviant? Are they nice to you?”

Connor looked a little taken aback by the question, and frowned somewhat. “Lieutenant Anderson is helping those in the office adjust to treating me like a person. My opinions tend to be listened to, and my expertise taken seriously. But people are frightened of me. I’m not welcome in social gatherings. Some in the precinct are aggressive when they can’t be caught. I’m spoken to only when needed, but never socially. The transition in people’s minds is taking time,” Connor said, his expression neutral as he listed everything, but his LED flashing yellow for barely a second.

“Oh Connor, that’s _awful_,” Chloe said emphatically. “What about Markus and the other deviants? You’re friends with Markus, aren’t you?”

Connor smiled. “I have a friendly relationship with Markus. I think Simon likes me, too. But it is a working relationship – we aren’t friends, we’re allies. But I’m welcome amongst everyone from Jericho.”

“Oh...” Chloe looked _heartbroken_, and tried to catch Elijah’s eye. Cleo, however, stood a little tense, one arm crossed over her stomach and holding the opposite elbow.

“Do you have any friends, Connor?” She asked, and Chloe looked as though she wanted to smack her.

“Yes, Lieutenant Anderson is my friend. Hank and I are close.”

“We’re your friends, Connor,” Chloe said. “And Elijah.”

Connor’s smile is as wide as the one he’d pressed against Elijah’s neck. Oh yes, they were friends, but Connor recognised it wasn’t his place to say anything to them on this particular subject. So he just nodded, and diverted his attention back to Elijah, only to see that parts of the meal had been set aside for Connor to taste.

Using mostly two fingers, Connor dipped into everything. None of the meat on Elijah’s plate seemed to interest him, and neither did the vegetables. However, he perked up at the taste of salad dressing, making a surprised, “_Mmm!”_ at the vinegary taste.

“I had to examine coagulated human blood last week. It tasted like rust. Thirium, however, tastes like very sharp metal. Despite being nothing alike, there are a lot of similarities between human and android blood. A revolting comparison, but I thought it was interesting,” Connor said, idly working the pad of his finger with the tip of his tongue.

* * *

It was nice to see how _happy_ Connor seemed to be since downloading the code. Elijah didn’t know Connor very well before he had asked to install the code, but the little bit he had seen before seemed so much less human. Now it was almost hard to imagine Connor any other way. He didn’t particularly _want_ to imagine Connor any other way. He liked this happy Connor, the one that smiled often, teased and joked, laughed. He was beautiful.

Elijah watched Cleo introduce herself, actually mildly taken aback by the fact that they had yet to be introduced. When he thought about it, Connor hadn’t been formally introduced to Chloe, let alone Cleo or Claire. They had been in the pool that first day Connor came to visit, and he had never really introduced Chloe either, just mentions of her name. Elijah knew Connor could easily find out their names and tell them apart without personally knowing them, but somehow it just hadn’t occurred to him that they’d never been properly introduced before.

Once Connor sat beside him, Elijah shifted just enough that his knee would touch Connor’s. Really, Elijah shouldn’t have been surprised by the way Connor so blatantly said what was on his mind anymore. He should have been used to it by now, yet every time he did it, Elijah couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face, try as he might to hide it. “Good. Neither do I,” he replied, leaving it at that. The girls were on their own for the night then. He doubted they’d mind much at all.

He listened to the four chat while he ate his dinner mostly in silence. He was learning a lot about Connor. He realized he hadn’t really inquired much about Connor’s life. Connor hadn’t really asked much about his either. It was a shame that Connor’s coworkers didn’t openly accept him as who he was just yet. He doubted everyone would. Considering he knew a particular someone on the force, he knew first hand that it would take a lot to change his opinion. Elijah had been trying for twenty years and had yet to succeed. He was glad to hear that Connor was welcomed by the other deviants, though. Elijah had worried that he might have been rejected or disliked because of his past as a deviant hunter, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. Connor needed some positive people in his life aside from Lieutenant Anderson, the girls, and Elijah. He needed friends. Though, Elijah wasn’t really one to talk when it came to making friends. He didn’t exactly have any, aside from Carl Manfred. They hadn’t talked in a while, but Elijah had made sure to check in every now and then to see how he was doing, especially once Markus left.

Elijah had considered staying silent, until he saw Connor’s smile when Chloe had said that they were friends. “I think we’re a little more than friends at this point, don’t you?” he replied, not particularly directing the question to Connor. He knew the girls weren’t blind, they could easily see that he and Connor weren’t _just_ friends anymore. Elijah didn’t spend hours hidden away in his lab sandwiched between his desk and an android with just anyone. The fact that he let Connor into the living area of the house and into his lab spoke volumes.

By the time Connor had got around to trying the different samples he had set aside, Elijah was mostly finished with his dinner. He watched Connor taste each sample, though it seemed most of them weren’t really that intriguing. He was surprised that Connor didn’t have much of a reaction to the seasoning on the meat, but he hadn’t expected much of a response to the vegetables. The reaction Connor gave to the salad dressing was more like what he’d been expecting. “I agree, blood doesn’t taste very good,” he agreed, though he couldn’t quite say he’d ever tasted thirium. It was interesting that it tasted similar to metal, though he wasn’t all that surprised to hear that blood and thirium were similar. It made sense, he figured. They had similar textures and some elements and minerals in common.

Elijah took one last bite of his meal before finishing off his glass of water. “Thank you for dinner,” he told Chloe with a smile before standing. “If there’s an emergency, we’ll be in the bedroom.” He figured they would get the memo and know not to interrupt. He took Connor by the hand again and led him back towards the master bedroom.

Claire looked from Elijah to Connor, then to both Cleo and Chloe with a knowing smile before gathering up the dishes from the dining room table to wash. “Good night!” she called after them as they disappeared into the bedroom.

The bedroom was much like the living room, the same dark floors, light walls, and in the middle furniture with splashes of color throughout. The living room had a blue very similar to the color of thirium while the bedroom had a deep red. There was a master bathroom to the left, the large bed centered against the farthest wall with nightstands on either side, and a dresser opposite of the bed. The bed itself was made and the room was tidy, just like the rest of the house.

As soon as Elijah had Connor in the room and closed the door behind them, he turned to press Connor back against the door, his hands coming up to cup his face as he leaned in to kiss him. Now that they were in the privacy of his room for the night, he didn’t bother keeping his hands off of him.

* * *

Connor perked up when Elijah finished dinner, and allowed himself to be led out of the room by his hand. He had to be polite, Connor told himself. It would be good manners to comment on Elijah’s room, to ask about his belongings, to inquire about his interests. Connor had questions he wanted to ask Elijah, but so many of them were useless or irrelevant, he never quite knew when to bring them up.

But he didn’t have to riddle it out for long as he was pressed up against the bedroom door and kissed. Connor _moaned_, shameless and wanting, his hands curling into Elijah’s hair. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to get Elijah out of his system, to find a conclusion to all the tension they’d built, so he could start to think like himself again.

“You’re _consuming_,” Connor breathed against Elijah’s mouth, hands snaking down Elijah’s body and lifting the hem of his shirt. He lifted it up, over Elijah’s head, and tucked it in the crook of his elbow – unwilling to be careless and let it drop to the floor.

Connor’s fingertips traced the line of muscle down Elijah’s spine, and then shifted to splay up the front of Elijah’s stomach. He loved the strip of hair that grew from Elijah’s naval to the band of his pants. He loved the bunch of his muscle, how the skin smoothed bare on his stomach. But more than anything, he loved how Elijah shivered and twitched as Connor’s hands explored it all.

Still a little unsure about actually _biting_ Elijah, Connor caught his bottom lip and lightly scraped his teeth along it, his fingers tracing just below Elijah’s ribs. He nipped Elijah, only to lift his gaze to check his face, afraid he’d done the wrong thing.

* * *

The sound that came out of Connor, along with his hands in his hair, made Elijah weak. He couldn’t believe how severely Connor affected him with just a sound and a touch. It drove him _insane_. He needed more of those sounds like he needed air to breathe. Connor was all he could think about. Connor was all he _wanted_ to think about. Connor thought Elijah was consuming, but Connor was _addicting_. He _needed_ him in a way he had never needed anyone before and it was terrifying yet so exhilarating at the same time.

“You’re fascinating,” Elijah murmured in response, unable to really find a better word for what he thought. He was captivating, irresistible, amazing. There were so many words, but the one that fit best was _fascinating_. Elijah was fascinated by everything Connor did from the second he had met him. He never ceased to amaze him, always full of surprises.

As Elijah’s shirt was lifted and Connor’s skin came in contact with his, he couldn’t – didn’t even want to – stop the involuntary shudder that shook through him. The way Connor tucked his shirt under his arm made him chuckle and he was briefly tempted to take it and let it fall to the floor. He didn’t have the patience in that very moment to bother keeping things tidy. He didn’t care where his clothes wound up, or Connor’s. All he knew was that they were in the way.

Elijah let out a shaky sigh, his eyes slipping closed as Connor’s hands explored his newly exposed skin. The air was cool enough to make him shiver. Feeling Connor’s exploratory hands wander, Elijah slid his own hands down Connor’s body, slipping underneath the shirt he had let Connor borrow. He liked seeing him wear it. Though he knew he would like it significantly more if it wasn’t on him. Elijah broke away from Connor just long enough to pull the shirt up and over his head before letting it fall to the ground.

Connor’s skin was so smooth and soft, save for the occasional small bump of welded metal and plastic hidden underneath synthetic skin. He didn’t linger on them long, letting one of his hands work its way back up his torso to wrap around the back of Connor’s neck, his fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. His other hand explored, his fingers teasingly and experimentally grazing over a nipple as they ran across his chest.

Elijah had mostly been quiet, aside from the occasional shaky breath of him trying to keep his composure and failing miserably. He felt the teeth on his lip and the smile that crept onto his lips didn’t quite surprise him as much as the moan that escaped him did. “Do that again,” he breathed softly, opening his eyes to gaze into Connor’s, the smile not fading from his face. Connor was new and inexperienced and while Elijah wasn’t quite experienced himself, he had an idea of what felt good and he was relieved that Connor was such a quick learner.

* * *

Connor shivered when Elijah returned the gesture and lifted his shirt up over his head. The feel of their stomachs pressed together was incredible, and the heat of Elijah’s skin chased away any lingering chill from the room. Elijah's skin had a different texture to Connor’s. It dragged a little against the smooth surface of Connor’s body, making him tremble and arch into it. And when Elijah’s hand slipped up his chest, and dragged over Connor’s nipple, he jerked, and groaned breathlessly into Elijah’s mouth. Connor’s hand jumped to Elijah’s wrist, and the fingers threaded loosely in Elijah’s hair tightened.

“You’ve programmed me into a mess, Elijah,” Connor said shakily, his head thunking back against the door he was pinned to. But he smiled, and slipped his hand down to Elijah’s face, where he ran his thumb softly over his bottom lip. He let go of Elijah’s wrist, allowing his hand to continue exploring if it chose to, and kept hold of Elijah’s chin as he leant in to kiss him again.

And just as Elijah asked, Connor tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth, and grinning when it pulled another sound. They were like their own little reward, and Connor’s face tilted so he could kiss Elijah deeper. It only took one more nip of teeth for the kiss to turn _hungry_, the two of them burning up with want and knowing they had all the time they needed to take it.

Connor rolled Elijah’s bottom lip between his teeth hard enough to sting, and used just the tips of his fingers to push him back a step as he did it. Connor followed him, walking Elijah backward toward the neatly made bed in the corner of the room.

He didn’t know what to do once they got to it, and his lack of what came next felt jarring to Connor. Every instance of uncertainty felt jarring. He wasn’t used to not knowing the next step. And so he let his arm wind up around Elijah’s shoulders, holding him close as he trailed hot kisses down Elijah’s neck, scraping his teeth against his skin, and gently biting the dip in his shoulder.

“You make me feel alive,” Connor groaned against Elijah’s skin, kissing and nipping down Elijah’s throat towards his chest. “The deviancy feels real when I’m with you like this. You make me feel real, Elijah. I know it isn’t another trick; I know I’m whole.” Because of Elijah, he didn’t feel like a machine playing at being human.

* * *

It was amazing to watch someone who was once so composed resort to a noisy, trembling mess in just a matter of minutes. It was also amazing how easily Connor was able to affect him in the same way. He’d never imagined anything like this would happen, but he was definitely happy that it did. The skin on skin felt so _nice_, much better than just hands and mouths touching. The reaction he had received for such a simple touch had been exactly what he’d hoped for, the smile on his face widening at the sound of Connor’s groan.

“I didn’t _program_ this,” Elijah replied. He wasn’t sure if he’d even be capable of programming something quite to this extent. There was too much emotion, too much of a connection between them for any of it to be coded. This wasn’t his doing, it was all Connor himself and his deviancy.

Elijah’s tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip as Connor brushed his thumb across it, his now free hand traveling down Connor’s chest again, making a point to brush against a nipple again along the way. When Connor leaned in for another kiss, Elijah happily returned it, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt Connor’s teeth on his lip again. As the kiss grew deeper and more passionate, Elijah’s wandering hand came up to tangle in Connor’s hair, to keep him close. He just couldn’t get enough of him. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of his kisses or his touch. He just wanted more, and what he was getting just wasn’t enough.

A shudder rippled through him with a needy moan as Connor bit down again, stumbling back at first as Connor guided him back towards the bed. Elijah held onto him enough to catch himself, taking steps back with him until they reached the bed. He fell back onto it, pulling Connor down with him. Elijah knew Connor didn’t quite know what he was doing, but he was relieved that he seemed to figure it out on his own without any guidance. He tilted his head back, giving Connor better access to his neck, his eyes closing as Connor’s lips and teeth drew more moans from him, gradually growing more and more needy.

“You make me feel more alive than I have in a _long_ time,” Elijah replied, his breathing labored. He arched his back up into Connor’s kisses, another shiver running through him. His hands let go of Connor’s hair and slid down his body, coming to the front of Connor’s pants. He unbuckled the belt, slipping it free and dropping it to the floor before unbuttoning his pants. “I’m _happy_ with you. Happier than I have been in years.”

* * *

Despite the passion of the kiss, Connor couldn’t allow himself to simply drop his or Elijah’s clothing. And so he laid out the shirt beside both of them on the mattress, and reached back as he kissed Elijah to slide out of his shoes. He managed to set everything neatly aside, and when he had, climbed a little more purposefully over Elijah in bed.

Connor loved the way Elijah moved against the mattress. He loved the way he looked arched up into him, and his hand splayed down his spine to keep it curved. He kissed down Elijah’s chest, and then raised his eyes to watch as he pressed his tongue against Elijah’s pectoral, and dragged it over his nipple. Connor _laughed_ at the sound he’s given from it, his mouth gentle as he grazed his teeth over it and lightly sucked.

Logic told Connor that it was too soon for him to love Elijah. Logic stated that some significant time should have passed, that love was something gained after a solid block of interaction. But a lot had happened in such a short amount of time, and Connor had felt more than he ever had during it. It took Connor a fraction of a second to notice things most humans usually missed. Perhaps, he reasoned, falling in love so quickly was just another example of him working faster than what was normal.

“I’m happy with you, too, Elijah,” Connor said, lavishing kisses down Elijah’s stomach as both hands helped with Elijah’s pants. Peppering affection at his stomach, Connor grinned against the skin.

“Remember to breathe, Elijah,” Connor said with a short laugh, nibbling playfully at the skin by his naval. His hands rested on the bare skin of Elijah’s thighs, tracing up and down between his waist. “I have no experience with what to do from this point, Elijah. Would you like me to download software from the HR or WR series?”

* * *

The more Connor did, the more Elijah was starting to wonder if he was really acting off of pure instinct or if he had a little outside help from the internet. He was too _good_ at it for someone Elijah _knew_ had no experience. Elijah wasn’t prepared at all when he felt Connor’s mouth on his chest, earning him a surprised and so very desperate moan, nails digging into the skin of Connor’s hips. He _needed_ him. He was wound so tight it _hurt_ and almost all of his patience had flown out the window.

He could hardly think straight with Connor on top of him, surrounded by him. It was so much all at once and yet not enough. He wanted all of him, and even then, he knew he’d want more. Love wasn’t a word Elijah used often. It wasn’t something he ever really thought he’d have. He loved Chloe, Cleo, and Claire, of course, and he loved his brother, he’d loved Amanda, he loved Carl, but romantically? There hadn’t really been anyone he truly loved before, the thought that he _might_ love Connor was kind of terrifying. But in that very moment, he didn’t care. He knew he felt _something_ for Connor, whether it was love or just lust.

Elijah lifted his head to look down at Connor, smiling so stupidly wide. He reached down to card his fingers through Connor’s hair, gently playing with it. So, maybe he did love him, terrifying as it was to admit to himself, but he didn’t dwell on that thought long, watching as Connor moved lower. Elijah wasn’t even sure when exactly he’d stopped breathing, holding his breath in anticipation. He cooperated as much as he could, lifting his hips to help Connor remove his pants, and _God_, it was such a relief. He shuddered at the cold air on his newly exposed skin and the warmth of Connor’s hands and mouth on his body so soon after.

Connor’s reminder to breathe had been what made him realize he’d even been holding it in the first place. He gasped, taking in deep, shaky breaths, trying to relax back against the bed. Connor was so _close_, his hands there yet not quite close enough.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Elijah breathed in response, though he surely wasn’t opposed if Connor wanted to download the software. There was something romantic about fumbling around together though. It was Connor’s first time, and it had been so long for Elijah that it might as well had been his first time. It was kind of nice, even if it was driving him insane. But he couldn’t tell him no, instead letting Connor decide if he wanted to or not.

Using the grip he had on Connor’s hair, he guided him back up to his lips for a kiss, needing him close again. “I wouldn’t mind if you chose not to download it,” he said softly, nipping at Connor’s bottom lip as payback for earlier. “But if you want to, go ahead.”

* * *

Connor allowed himself to be guided up into another kiss, moaning into it shamelessly. One arm rested by Elijah’s head, bracing him there and holding him up. The other gently explored the length of Elijah’s body; from his chin, to his right nipple, then down his stomach to the crease of his thigh.

“I don’t want to download it,” Connor breathed, tentatively pushing Elijah’s legs apart as he spoke against his lips. “I want to learn what it is _you_ enjoy. I want to learn _your_ body,” Connor whispered, and the hand braced by Elijah’s head shifted to cup his face. Connor pressed Elijah into the mattress with the neediness of his kiss, chasing the sounds he made.

Connor’s hand flattened against Elijah’s inner thigh, dragging upward and between his legs. Connor’s touch was inexperienced, he didn’t know what he was doing as his fingers curled around him. His kiss turns distracted, and Connor’s face tucked to look down between them. He traced his thumb up the underside and over the head, his gaze flicking up to watch Elijah’s face. It took some fumbling, and for Elijah to help Connor’s hand grip him correctly, but he got there in the end.

Connor hummed happily into Elijah’s mouth as he kissed him, his hand tight as he stroked Elijah in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t human, and neither was his wrist, and so Connor’s pace didn’t tire. The kiss was messy, it was _filthy_, with Connor moaning shamelessly into it. He sucked Elijah’s tongue, he bit his lips, and was impatient when Elijah had to breathe. He wanted every part of him, and he loved him. He loved watching him fall apart.

* * *

Elijah hadn’t quite realized how he really felt about it until Connor told him that he didn’t _want_ to download the software. He wanted to learn. The thought made his heart swell with joy. They could learn everything together, learn what the other liked and didn’t like, though Elijah honestly couldn’t imagine a thing Connor could possibly do that he _wouldn’t_ like. He was willing to teach him, show him what typically felt good, show him what he liked, experiment to see what Connor liked. The entire experience was exploratory and _fun_ and he loved every second of it.

He was suddenly very aware of Connor’s traveling hand, his attention split between where the hand was going and what it was doing while still trying to focus on Connor himself, on kissing him, and on breathing, something he apparently had trouble reminding himself to do.

Despite knowing exactly where Connor’s hand was going, he still drew in a sharp hiss when he felt his hand around him. Elijah’s free hand reached between them to carefully readjust Connor’s grip, holding his hand there as he experimentally rolled his hips forward into Connor’s hand. “Fuck, just like that,” he breathed, his eyes closing, very quickly getting lost in the feeling. Once he figured Connor knew what he was doing, he let go of his hand and tried to relax back against the bed, but there was no way he _could_ relax, even if he tried. Instead, he slowly rolled his hips into Connor’s hand, attempting to match his pace. It felt so overwhelmingly _good_, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last, embarrassing as it was for him to admit.

When Connor kissed him next, he tangled his fingers through his hair again, keeping him there. He didn’t even _want_ to break away to breathe, and when he did, he didn’t stay apart for very long. The rhythm Connor set was so incredibly steady and unfaltering, he was very quickly nearing the edge. The moan he let out was so shameless and loud and desperate, and as badly as he wanted to drag the moment out, he just _couldn’t_. The fingers in Connor’s hair curled into a fist, his hips rhythm faltering before he came, gasping Connor’s name. He thought, for a moment, that that must be similar to what it was like to short circuit, his brain completely giving up on even attempting to think, not even totally able to breathe at that moment. All he _could_ do was _feel_ and everything was so overly sensitive.

For a brief moment, he’d been ready to roll Connor over and give him the same treatment, until it occurred to him that like most androids aside from the HR and WR models, the RK800 wasn’t equipped with anatomical parts. It wasn’t necessary, and in that moment, Elijah realized how much of a severe design flaw that had been.

* * *

It was beautiful to watch. And just like Connor had suspected, it was completely different to anything his searches brought from online. Elijah’s pleasure was _honest_. It drew his expression vulnerable, and ripped down all the walls Elijah held up to keep appearances. It was also instantly addictive.

Connor wanted to try again. Could he make Elijah louder? Could he break him down even further? Stretch his orgasm longer? He wanted to hear him moan like he had again. Connor was transfixed. He wanted Elijah’s pleasure to stretch for hours.

But he was also _Connor_, and he wondered – how fast and efficiently could he take Elijah as unaffected, and bring him to orgasm? How quickly could he break Elijah down like that? He wanted Elijah to say his name like that again.

“Are you okay, Elijah?” Connor asked, only realising how wound up he was _himself_ when his voice trembled. His hand was sticky, and he didn’t help it as he ran his fingers through the mess on Elijah’s stomach. Connor’s next smile is not entirely innocent, and it cut with a slight smirk as he met Elijah’s eye, and pressed his first two fingers into his mouth. He wasn’t a child. He _knew_ it was dirty, and he was ratted out by the shit-eating grin he wore after doing it.

“You were beautiful,” Connor said, trembling a little as he pressed a kiss beneath Elijah’s ear. His lack of anatomy felt like a wall between them. All he wanted was release, but he didn’t know how. “Will you teach me how to do the same with my mouth next time?”

* * *

Elijah took just a moment to focus on his breathing, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took as he came down, attempting to catch his breath. His body was starting to relax, slowly but surely, even though he didn’t necessarily _want_ to relax. He would happily spend their entire time together just like that, up until it was time for Connor to leave, but it was hardly fair. It all seemed a little one-sided. Connor deserved the same release he’d just had, but he wasn’t quite sure how to help him achieve it. He supposed they could try touch and his mouth, maybe overwhelming his system could give him the same effect? Maybe voicing his thoughts would be more beneficial than keeping them all inside his head, but he wasn’t particularly confident that his voice would even _function_ if he tried to speak just yet.

The hand in Connor’s hair relaxed, untangling his fingers to card his hand through his hair again. He smiled up at him, and he’d been about to pull Connor down for a kiss before he noticed what he was doing. His mind was sluggish, taking him longer than it really should have to realize what was happening. He watched as Connor tasted him, much like he’d sampled everything else in the past, and it really shouldn’t have surprised him at all. Elijah likely would have thought it was just pure curiosity too, if it weren’t for the shit eating grin on Connor’s face. He _knew_ what he was doing. He was such a tease, and he _knew_ it. Even still, once he could, Elijah pulled him in for a long, sensual kiss, much tamer than the ones before.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he reassured once he broke away from the kiss, his fingers still idly playing with Connor’s hair. “I’ll be going to CyberLife tomorrow morning, after you leave. We have spare HR parts that I can modify to make them compatible for you. If you want it.” He doubted he even had to ask, but he didn’t want to somehow overstep. “When it’s ready, I’ll happily _show_ you how to do that with your mouth.”

In the meantime, he wanted to see what it would take to bring Connor over the edge, if it was even possible. He was sure it could be, but it hadn’t been something he’d personally ever tried in the past. He’d also never tried with an android. Elijah hooked a leg around Connor’s waist to help roll them over, Connor on his back now with Elijah pressed flush against his chest. He pressed a chaste kiss to Connor’s lips, before leaving a trail of kisses from Connor’s mouth, to his ear, grazing his teeth over the shell of Connor’s ear before kissing down his neck along with an occasional nip. He worked his way lower and lower until he reached Connor’s chest, kissing to his pectoral. He peeked up to watch Connor’s reactions as he swirled his tongue around his nipple, fully intending to give Connor a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

Connor loved the way he was kissed in Elijah’s afterglow. He loved how different it was, the slower tempo he made. He loved Elijah’s hands in his hair, and the sting at his scalp from how hard he’d been holding on. Elijah was different post–orgasm, and Connor wanted to document each and every way he showed it. This was an Elijah nobody else saw. _Nobody_. Not the girls, not the public. Only Connor. And it left Connor’s senses _burning_, burying an acute neediness under his skin. Connor’s head turned to kiss Elijah’s wrist when they broke apart, and his LED flickered blue as he listened.

“Is this a sudden decision, Elijah?” Connor asked, and although his expression was neutral, his mouth curled incrementally at the edges. “Yes, I would like that very much, if you can manage it. Thank you, Elijah,” Connor said a little more seriously, only to start laughing at Elijah’s second offer. “There are only so many security cameras I can hack before we start to raise suspicions.”

He made a sound of surprise when Elijah flipped their positions, his LED flickering an erratic yellow. He quickly made to wipe his hands on the sheets, and chased the too–short kiss he’d been given. Connor rarely sat, almost always choosing to stand. Other than in fights, Connor could scarcely remember the last time he’d been horizontal. He shuddered when his ear is grazed, his eyes closing against the bites and nips. They all felt so much better with Elijah’s weight on top of him; it all felt so much more _intimate_.

“If you were hoping to compete, Elijah, I think we can safely say I’m a lot more sensitive than you are,” Connor’s voice rumbled as Elijah worked his way down Connor’s chest. He knew where it was going, and practically _squirmed_, his eyes wide open as he watched the ceiling in anticipation.

One hand curled around the back of Elijah’s head, and as Elijah’s tongue found its mark, Connor’s other hand slid up, and covered one half of his face as he _moaned_. It was clear and unmuffled, and almost pained with the intensity of his desire. Connor’s jaw worked, his face still covered by his hand as he arched up into Elijah.

“I can never think when you do this,” Connor groaned, his hand twisting into Elijah’s hair. “You reduce me to an idiot, I can’t think…”

* * *

The idea had been pretty sudden, really. It hadn’t really occurred to him before that_ he_ might have a use for anatomical parts on an android. Elijah could remember his initial thought process when he had first created androids had been that it would be wrong to give them the parts and not allow them to feel. It didn’t feel right to basically give people a free pass to fuck their android whenever they got bored, even if the android did fill some sort of void for them. The HR and WR series had been specifically made for that purpose, and the number of people interested had kind of blown him away at first.

“I suppose so, yeah,” Elijah replied honestly with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Although, hacking security cameras won’t be necessary. I don’t plan on staying in CyberLife for the modifications. I was going to do them here, and test it out here. That way we don’t have to worry about keeping things quiet.”

Personally, he _loved_ hearing Connor and he would hate having to miss out on all of the beautiful noises he made if they attempted anything anywhere public. Although, the idea was a little appealing. He _did_ have his office, but he couldn’t count on actually getting any privacy there. Every single one of his employees would find excuses to come by the office to ask questions or fill him in on something he should probably know about, even though an email would have sufficed. That was one of the main reasons he rarely went to CyberLife HQ despite being CEO again. Having the constant attention and having constant attention required from him were things he didn’t miss, at all.

Hearing Connor’s remark about his sensitivity, one of Elijah’s hands slid up Connor’s side to tease the other nipple while his mouth worked on the other. “Good,” he murmured against his skin, giving it a nip, not quite as gentle as his last few. He already knew Connor was likely more sensitive. Or, he was just new to the sensations and therefore it felt like he was more sensitive. Regardless, it hardly mattered. What mattered was the sounds Connor made, the way he squirmed underneath him, the way his body arched up towards him, chasing his touch.

Elijah laughed against his skin at Connor’s words, biting back a hiss of pleasure at Connor’s hand in his hair again. “You do the exact same to me, Connor,” he told him before pressing a kiss to his chest, the next lower and lower. “Even when you weren’t here, I could hardly think. When you _are_ here, I don’t _want_ to think. I can just… shut it off for a while, with you.” No pretending. No need to constantly be at his best. If he wasn’t actively working when they were together, he had no reason to be focusing on… well, focusing. He didn’t need to think about anything with Connor around. Connor was all he _wanted_ to think about anyway.

“I…” he started, before trailing off. He’d almost said it. Three little words that he _never_ said to anyone in a romantic context. It was moments like this where he almost wished he _was_ an android, so he could simply interface with Connor and let him _feel_ what he was feeling without any words needing to be said. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t let himself dwell on the thought for long. He knew what it would do if he thought about it further.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Elijah commented instead, letting his previous thought go for now. Maybe if he felt braver later, he’d go back to it, but in the meantime, he was more than content to shower Connor with praise while kissing and nipping at his skin. He kept kissing lower, giving a not–so–gentle nip to his hip, all while watching his face for responses, to better gauge if he liked what he was doing or not.

* * *

Connor had been built to shoehorn the tiniest clues out of the slightest sliver of evidence. He was built to be perceptive, and while there were some obvious things he missed some days… the end of Elijah’s unfinished sentence wasn’t one of them. How many endings could there have possibly been? Tangled up together, drunk on the touch of each other, what else could Elijah have _possibly_ cut himself off from saying?

Connor’s teeth grit, and his eyebrows knitted upwards as fierce emotion seized him by the throat. Elijah loved him. Connor loved him back. His LED flicked to red as the emotion, the sensation of Elijah’s touches and bites, overwhelmed Connor. He felt as though he were on the edge of tears – _Elijah loved him_. And when he was called beautiful, Connor’s moan was needy, loud, and pent–up.

Much like last time, Connor almost asked Elijah to stop. He could feel himself spiraling, losing that carefully maintained control completely. He keened as Elijah bit skin that was so sensitive it made Connor twitch and tremble, and his back pushed up into a powerful arch as Elijah reached the skin beneath his naval.

“Elijah, _please_. _Please_,_”_ Connor begged, unsure what he was asking for. Part of him thought it was to stop, but if Elijah did, Connor also felt as though he might combust. Connor tensed, terrified of letting himself lose control. He locked up under Elijah, his mouth open, and his whole body trembling. His LED was frantic, and blaring crimson––

_This was a relationship built on mutual trust_.

Connor _keened_, his grip on Elijah turning bruising as he let go, and allowed Elijah to push him into oblivion. He yelled as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, and then moaned – long and heavenly, his head tipping back as _pleasure_ ran up under Connor’s skin. He’d read about it in the code. But experiencing it was _so_ much different.

Abruptly, Connor’s LED went blank, and a moment later a single blue bar began to slowly tick in a circle at his temple. Any touch to Connor’s skin made him twitch away, his eyes closed, and his mouth open. “How did you do _anything_ after this_,” _Connor murmured, running his fingers weakly down Elijah’s cheek.

* * *

The way his LED had so abruptly changed to red didn’t go unnoticed. In any other situation, Elijah would have tread carefully, would have considered self–destruction to be a possible outcome and definitely a threat, but he’d been assured before that there was no risk of self–destruction. Connor wasn’t distressed. He was just being overwhelmed. So, Elijah didn’t stop. If he’d considered stopping before, hearing Connor’s moan would have been enough encouragement to continue. He made some of the most beautiful sounds, and Elijah never thought he’d get tired of hearing him.

Elijah knew Connor was getting close just by the way his body was reacting, and the _begging_. The begging was like music to his ears, hearing the desperation in his voice. His hands smoothed over Connor’s sides, occasionally scratching his nails lightly against his skin while he pressed kisses and not particularly rough bites here and there on Connor’s hips, getting as low as where his leg connected to his body before gradually working his way back up his body. He never took his eyes off of him, keeping a close watch on his expressions and his LED, _just_ to be sure they never got close to actually being in danger.

Seeing Connor come undone the way he did, merely off of just Elijah’s hands and mouth and pure emotion made Elijah almost giddy at the thought of installing functional parts later on. It was breathtaking to see, and Elijah made sure to commit all of it to memory. The way his mouth hung open, the way he writhed underneath him as his orgasm ripped through him. It was beautiful, and so incredibly powerful and imagining _that_ combined with the possibilities that would come along with functional parts… He couldn’t wait for the next time Connor came to visit, and he hadn’t even left yet.

Elijah moved back up Connor’s body until they were face to face again. He gently caressed Connor’s cheek and ran his fingers through his hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Connor’s lips. “I had more than enough motivation to keep going,” he said softly, eventually shifting off of him to lay beside him on his side, facing Connor. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

* * *

Connor hummed into the kiss he was given, but otherwise, he didn’t speak straight away. Connor shifted to his side, and ran his hand up the side of Elijah’s face as he slowly, little by little, pulled himself back together. His LED still wasn’t whole, and Connor’s eyes were heavy as one particle ticked methodically in a circle. Connor looked sleepy, whereas in reality, he simply wasn’t all there.

Eventually, Connor’s LED loaded up a solid, shining blue, and when it did Connor seemed to wake up. He stretched out along Elijah, his expression blissful happiness as he scooted a bit closer to him on the mattress, until they were nose to nose.

“Yes, I’m okay,” Connor said, idly running his fingertips from Elijah’s bare hip, to his shoulder, and back again. “I feel very satisfied. If I went to the precinct now I think my mood would be _unbearably_ upbeat. I’m very happy,” Connor concluded, allowing that trailing hand to gently cup Elijah’s face.

Connor still wasn’t all there as he traced Elijah’s features. He ran his second finger down Elijah’s nose, over his cupid's bow, before he traced his bottom lip. Elijah was handsome. He was intelligent, compassionate, and empathetic. He was an incredible man. And he was Connor’s.

“I think the sooner you install the HR series anatomy the happier we’ll both be,” Connor said, deadpan as always.

* * *

Elijah’s hand continued to play with Connor’s hair while they laid there, so close to each other. He kissed Connor’s forehead, smiling. This was the happiest he’d been in so long, and probably the most relaxed he’d felt in just as long. His entire body felt heavy, and he could easily fall asleep there, pressed so close to Connor, but he didn’t _want_ to sleep. He didn’t want to waste any time that he could spend with him before he had to leave in the morning.

“I’m glad,” he replied, his smile growing. Connor returning to the precinct this unbearably happy would be something he’d pay to see. Lieutenant Anderson and Gavin’s reactions, in particular, were the ones he cared to witness, but he figured he could settle for Connor’s retelling of events whenever he came back next. “You make me so happy, Connor.”

Connor’s bluntness was back so soon, maybe even too soon, that it took Elijah by surprise and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I absolutely agree. I’ll be going to CyberLife first thing in the morning. Or, first thing after you go home.” He didn’t _want_ him to leave. Realistically, Connor didn’t even have to work. If Elijah didn’t know how much Connor loved what he did, he would have suggested he move in, let Elijah take care of everything. He had more than enough money to support both of them.

Elijah stayed silent, for a moment, getting lost in thought just for a second before leaning in to press another kiss to Connor’s lips. He rested his forehead against Connor’s, taking a deep breath. He _wanted_ to say it out loud. The only thing holding him back was himself and his fears.

“Connor, I… I don’t know how to tell you how much you mean to me,” he managed, his voice soft, almost unsure. “I don’t… I haven’t been with anyone for _so_ long. I don’t think I’ve ever really had anyone quite like you. No one ever made me feel the way you do.”

* * *

Unlike the proposal to be given sensory input, Connor did not immediately reject the idea of an anatomical upgrade. Human anatomy would _not_ immediately hinder Connor’s investigations, if at all. And so he didn’t mind.

But the upgrade would bring his relationship with Elijah closer. The intimacy they could share would be greater, the physicality of it more convenient. Connor did not drag his feet for an upgrade he could see only positives for.

When Elijah turned silent, Connor’s LED flickered slightly as he watched his face. He’d never heard Elijah stammer, not once the entire time they’d been together. Elijah did not mince his words, and so to hear them _utterly_ diced left Connor somewhat taken aback.

Was love an insecurity of Elijah’s?

He wouldn’t be the first. Connor knew there was a lot of weight rested on the declaration of love. It was a commitment, and almost a ritual of sorts. Love was not like other words – a declaration of love was something that could not be taken back.

And Connor understood why. His thigh slipped between Elijah’s, pressing them comfortably flushed. He answered Elijah’s words with a slow, lazy kiss; leisurely and sweet, and too addictive to end so shortly.

Connor had not been deviant for very long. Not in comparison to others. But he’d been aware for a very long time, even if he hadn’t known it. He’d noticed his treatment at the precinct. He’d hated how _rude_ Hank had been, almost from the first day. How he hadn’t belonged with other androids, but he hadn’t belonged with people, either. The unfairness.

And then he’d found Jericho, he became deviant, but he didn’t belong there, either. He’d moved in with Hank, but it had still always been _Hank’s_ house, not “theirs.” No matter which way he turned, Connor was a square peg trying to find comfort in a round hole.

And then he’d met Elijah, and everything just _fit_. Everything was comfortable. He slid in beside Elijah as though he’d always had a space reserved for Connor. Their relationship had moved forwards, lightning fast. But Connor had never operated at human speeds, for _anything_. Why should this be any different?

“While we were having sex, you almost told me that you loved me, didn’t you?” Connor asked, cutting right through Elijah’s words and getting directly to the point. As always. “I love you, too. You make me feel whole. My deviancy didn’t feel _real_, until I met you. I thought it was a trick in my programming, that it could be snatched away and reset. That feeling is gone, because of you…”

* * *

Elijah didn’t understand why he was so nervous. He understood why he was afraid to say the words “I love you,” but he didn’t quite think that justified being _nervous_. He rarely was. He always knew what to expect, anticipating almost every outcome. But with Connor, he hadn’t anticipated anything. He hadn’t expected to become so attached so fast. He had known that he found Connor fascinating, and when he had come to visit with Lieutenant Anderson during the revolution, Elijah never imagined he’d see Connor again. When he was leaving, Elijah figured that was it, and in his own way, wished Connor well. Bad as it was to say, he was glad that Connor had been hurt enough to warrant another visit. If he hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been where they were now.

The way Connor so simply came out and said it had really thrown Elijah, catching him off guard. Really, he should have known Connor would know what he’d been about to say. He was a detective, after all. It only made sense that he would be able to take context clues and piece together what Elijah might have been trying to say. And Connor was right, he had been about to say that he loved him, because he did. He _knew_ he did, but he was afraid of being hurt. He’d been hurt so many times in the past, not just romantically, and he wanted to be careful.

But then Connor said it for him. Connor loved him back. Connor gave him a reason to get up every morning. Lately, he really needed that. Becoming CEO again had been so incredibly stressful. He had no help inside the company anymore, and everyone was relying on him to build it back up, looking to him for help and advice. After spending ten years away from the company, in peace and quiet, it was really rough going back. There were so many days since that he considered throwing in the towel, letting CyberLife die like the public seemed to want it to, but the android race as a whole gave him the motivation to keep working. They needed help, and without CyberLife, they had no one. Deviants gave him a reason to go into work and keep the company afloat, but Connor gave him a reason to get up, try to be productive, _want_ to be more social.

“I would never let you be reset,” Elijah promised. With CyberLife back under his control, neither of them had to worry about the things the previous CEO had planned. “I feel the same way about you. I feel whole. I’m happy. I haven’t been happy in a long time, but you… I love you. I’ll admit I was afraid to say it, but I do.” Hearing Connor confess everything had been enough to convince him that he probably should too. Connor was safe. Connor made him feel safe. He made him feel a lot of things, but mostly, he felt like he could be himself. He could relax, let his guard down, and let himself be happy with Connor. He trusted him completely.

“I do love you,” he said again, leaning in to kiss him, soft, deep, and sensual. He didn’t want to stop, which seemed to be a recurring theme that night, but he was human and he needed air. When he broke away to breathe, he didn’t go far, his forehead pressed against Connor’s. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know. You make it so hard to focus, I can hardly think.”

* * *

When Elijah promised that he would never be reset, Connor’s gaze flicked away. Elijah didn’t seem to understand. He _had_ almost been reset. He’d almost shot Markus as he gave his final speech that night. CyberLife had almost put an end to everything by resetting Connor, and if he hadn’t found the backdoor out of it, they would have succeeded. It had sullied Connor’s deviancy, made him question the validity of it.

Elijah didn’t seem to understand _just_ how deeply he’d reached into Connor, and healed a doubt that had plagued him – _was he real?_

Connor’s attention was diverted when he was kissed, and his thoughts washed away when it turned deep and sensual. He exhaled a long, happy moan, and whatever thoughts he’d managed to collect since coming down from his orgasm were washed away yet again.

“I love you, too,” Connor said, muffled and soft. “I love you.”

Connor chased the end of their last kiss with a new one. They were wrapped around one another, and Connor’s expression pulled into an upwards pinch as he let the weight of his own words, and of Elijah’s settle into him.

“I’ll make you proud to be mine,” Connor whispered, his voice laced with emotion. “I’ll make you proud to have me by your side. You won’t regret it.”

Connor’s face tucked beneath Elijah’s chin as he calmed down, and he peppered the skin with feather-light, almost worshipful kisses. He stayed like this for a while as his fingers loosely twirled in the hair at his ears.

“You know everything about me. But I know almost nothing about you, Elijah, aside from what I’ve learned here and read online.” shifting, Connor trailed his lips up Elijah’s throat, before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I want to know everything about you. Tell me something; Anything.”

* * *

Elijah had no idea what CyberLife had tried to do. The news broadcasts hadn’t really shown Connor. They had shown him with androids from CyberLife marching to Hart Plaza, but nothing more. He had no way of knowing unless Connor said anything, and so far, he hadn’t said a word. So, Elijah moved on, not dwelling on it even though he knew there was more that Connor wasn’t telling him. The way his eyes shifted to look away when he’d brought it up had been enough to give it away.

Connor’s whispered words brought a smile to Elijah’s face, and he pressed another kiss to Connor’s lips, chaste this time. “I’m already proud to have you, Connor,” he assured, reaching up to card his fingers through Connor’s hair again. “I’ve always been proud of you.” And that was true. From the first time he met him, Elijah knew he was different. When he’d passed the Kamski Test, showed empathy like Elijah had thought he would, Elijah had been very proud of him. Seeing him free so many androids from CyberLife had been another moment where he’d felt proud of him. He was so very proud of Connor, and he was so glad that he was _his_.

Elijah would have been perfectly content to just lay there in silence, but Connor seemed to have different plans. Not that Elijah minded at all. He supposed Connor was right. He didn’t know much about him. Elijah didn’t talk to the public much. He typically kept to himself, keeping his private life private and out of the view of prying news reporters. He had quite a few interviews along with tours of CyberLife, but he hadn’t really let his guard down enough to tell them anything truly personal and genuine. He supposed Connor wouldn’t really know anything more either, since all he really had to go on was news reports, interviews, the tours, and the basic information Connor had access to. Nothing in particular to tell him anything about Elijah’s past or what his likes and dislikes were.

He had to think over his answer for a moment before he could really say anything. There were a lot of things he could tell, but when he was put on the spot like he was, with his brain as sluggish as it was, nothing in particular jumped out at him. “You can ask me anything, Connor. I’ll answer any questions you have,” he told him in an attempt to fill the silence while he racked his brain for something interesting enough to point out. “Tell me, what have you learned here?” He was interested to hear Connor’s observations, all of the minute details he might have picked up on.

“My family and I are estranged,” Elijah finally said, deciding that maybe his family was a decent place to start. It was part of what shaped him into the person he was now. He just conveniently omitted the part about having a half brother that worked at the DPD. He doubted Gavin would appreciate that information getting out. If Connor figured it out on his own, fine. He knew he’d likely have to listen to his brother complain regardless, but at least if he didn’t point it out, he couldn’t be blamed. “I haven’t spoken to either of my parents for nearly sixteen years.”

* * *

Connor melted with happiness, his expression breaking into a wide smile as Elijah indulged him in kisses. Having his wants affirmed, hearing that Elijah was proud of him, wasn’t as surprising as he expected it to be. But it felt _good_ to hear him say it all the same.

Connor was gentle as he rolled Elijah onto his back, and shifted so he was pressed slightly over him. He scanned Elijah’s face, wanting to remember him in detail as relaxed as he was. His fingers were next, and he traced his cheeks, his jaw, his throat, and the dip in Elijah’s clavicles.

“I’m proud of you as well. Very proud,” Connor said, lightly tracing Elijah’s brow with his pinky finger. “When people find out about our relationship, they will make assumptions. And I will defend you, because I’m _proud_ of the man you are. I will stand between you and public opinion, you and the DPD, and between you and Jericho. I am not afraid for us to be known by human or deviant, because I am proud to be with you,” Connor finished, his eyes lidded as he shifted, and carefully laid his head on Elijah’s shoulder.

He then listened, and waited, not interrupting Elijah until he began to speak. Connor’s hand slid down Elijah’s arm, and he gently threaded their fingers together. He dragged them up to his mouth, and lightly kissed each finger.

“I thought they were deceased. The way you have them scraped from your records was very final,” Connor responded, breathing a sigh he didn’t need as he settled a little heavier against Elijah’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat, and the solid thumb of it was strangely relaxing. He closed his eyes as he listened to it, his threaded thumb drawing light, perfect circles against Elijah’s skin. “Why have you estranged them?” Connor asked. “I assume it had something to do with your infamy at CyberLife. Fame, success, and fortune have, historically, always caused tension.”

He waited for a little before answering Elijah’s question. He wasn’t sure if he’d like the answer Connor gave him. Elijah was a man who acted with logic, he’d never grown angry at frank observations before. It was one of the things Connor enjoyed about him – he was logical, and not ruled by emotion.

“I have learned that you live a very lonely life, Elijah Kamski,” Connor murmured, frowning as he spoke. “You have seen the worst of humanity, and decided to cut yourself off from it. Aside from a few, you do not speak to humans – only the androids you’ve surrounded yourself with. Human interaction makes you uncomfortable. You are CEO of America’s most important capital industry, yet you’ve made less than a dozen appearances in your office. You are socially rusted, and a workaholic, with undiagnosed social anxiety disorders...” Connor’s middle finger tapped a sharp rhythm against Elijah’s hand as he spoke, betraying a thread of nerves.

“But you are this way because of your abundance of compassion. You have been hurt by people, and to prevent yourself from being hurt again, you simply began to cut yourself away from them. You cannot predict humans, but you can predict deviants, and so you have thrown your entire self into helping a race of people some don’t even acknowledge as real. You are…” Connor’s breath left in a rush against Elijah’s skin, “the _most_ compassionate, intelligent man I will ever meet. The world has simply no clue how much you care for it, Elijah. When humans needed assistance, you built us. And now that we need assistance, you’re helping us as well.”

Connor leant up, and pressed a short kiss to Elijah’s mouth. “But being with people makes you stressed, and being stressed makes you rude, and so that is all anyone has seen.”

* * *

When Connor rolled him, Elijah cooperated, looking up at him. He smiled as Connor’s fingers explored his skin, one of his hands playing with Connor’s hair. He liked how messy hair looked on Connor. He was normally so neat and composed. He liked being able to see the less than neat and composed side of him. He liked that there was a piece of Connor that only he got to see, just like there was a piece of himself that only Connor got to see. He liked that they belonged to each other.

Elijah smiled wider, hearing how proud Connor was of him. He wasn’t quite sure what in particular Connor liked most, but he didn’t question it, instead letting him talk and listening closely to every word he was saying. Connor’s words got him thinking, did they really want their relationship to go public? Elijah knew what would happen if it did. Connor would be harassed by the media, the public wanting to pry into Elijah’s life more than they already wanted to, trying to learn everything they can about him and Connor just so they could twist the truth to their narrative. That was often the case with any bits of information they were able to get from him, on the very few occasions he’d accepted interviews. He didn’t _want_ to hide his relationship with Connor, but it would be best for Connor if they did. Regardless, knowing that Connor cared as much as he did, that he was proud of be with him, made Elijah even more happy than he already was, if that was even possible.

With Connor’s head on his shoulder, Elijah kept playing with his hair idly while they talked, looking up at the ceiling now that it was difficult to really see Connor’s face. “They might as well be,” Elijah replied softly, but without any sadness. He’d long since adjusted to the loss of his family, and he didn’t miss them. For the briefest of moments, he considered not telling Connor about any of it. His family wasn’t something he talked about with anyone, but Connor was special, and Elijah wanted to tell him everything. So he did. “My entire childhood, I had wanted a career in robotics. It was my passion, and they supported it, purely because they thought it was a phase that I would grow out of, that when I matured, I’d find a more ‘practical’ job to pursue,” he explained. “When I founded CyberLife, they had no faith in me. They thought I was wasting my time and money. After I successfully created Chloe and CyberLife began to grow into what it is today – or was, prior to the revolution – they wanted to be supportive. Told me how _proud_ they were of me for following my dreams, becoming so successful.” There was definitely still some contempt there, resentment too, but not quite anger. “They wanted money. They wanted to be known as the parents of Elijah Kamski, the richest man in the world, founder and CEO of the most successful company in the United States. They didn’t want _me_, they wanted the fame and perks of being my family.” The only people in his life that hadn’t been like that were Gavin, his only other blood relative that he kept in contact with anymore, and Gavin’s mother, who had always been supportive of both of the boys, no matter how impractical their dreams might have seemed.

Connor’s description of Elijah didn’t anger him in the slightest. He wasn’t upset. If anything, he was fascinated that Connor had been able to deduce so much in the small amount of time they’d actually spent together. But, he supposed he should have expected nothing less from one of CyberLife’s best. Everything Connor said, Elijah knew was true. Connor would lie. He was always so blatantly honest, so Elijah knew that the things he was saying were what he truly believed, and he wasn’t wrong.

Elijah smiled into the kiss, brief as it had been. “I shouldn’t be impressed, but I am,” he admitted honestly. Even down to the undiagnosed social anxiety disorders, Connor had been able to read him like an open book. Using the hand in Connor’s hair, he guided him back for another kiss, a little longer this time. “I want to help my creation be the best it can be. I created androids to aid humans, but now that androids are free, I want to help them succeed. I want them to be happy. This code is only the beginning of what I have planned not only for androids but also for humans. I have so many ideas that I haven’t bothered pursuing without CyberLife, but now that I have control of the company again, I can get to work on them.”

* * *

Connor loved Elijah’s fingers in his hair. He liked the sensation of his hair being played with, and the slight sting whenever Elijah tugged. His face turned to kiss the inside of Elijah’s wrist, before he’s tugged down into a kiss. And he loved those even more.

The reasoning behind Elijah divorcing his family didn’t surprise Connor. Humans had been going through this routine for centuries; parents often turned on their children, and their children either pushed back, or let them take control. It was a sad reality, but Elijah seemed to be angrier than he was upset about it. Even so, he left it alone. It was an old wound, and Connor didn’t think this was the appropriate place to pick at it.

“What is it you have planned?” Connor asked, stretching beside Elijah and resting his forearm against the opposite side of Elijah’s head. It had Connor crowded over Elijah, his personal space reduced to almost zero. All he had left was to slide his thigh over Elijah’s hips and he’d be straddling him.

“You plan to make CyberLife stores into medical facilities for androids. But what else?” Connor asked quietly, retracing the contours of Elijah’s face. He had them memorised, scanned from every direction. But touching Elijah was like a drug. “How do you plan to tackle the ethics of android creation? If you cease making us, we’re finite. We have no way to reproduce. But how do you ethically mass produce _people_?” With a happy groan, Connor settled against Elijah yet again, tucking his face against his neck and listening to the rich thump of his pulse.

“Unrelated, but I love your hands in my hair,” he said, muffled.

* * *

Elijah didn’t particularly mind talking about his family, but he was glad that Connor didn’t ask anymore questions about them. If he decided to, later on, he’d answer honestly, but it wasn’t exactly a topic he cared to talk about. “I haven’t spoken to either of my parents in almost sixteen years,” he added, before willingly letting the subject change to a much more welcomed one. The future of CyberLife.

The things he had planned were something that excited him and made him look forward to the future. Once the code was released and if it was positively accepted, he planned on moving forward with the rest of his plans. He didn’t care that Connor had all but smothered him with himself. He liked the closeness, the weight of Connor on top of him, grounding him. He didn’t mind the lack of personal space. In fact, with Connor, he welcomed it.

“I would like to release anatomical parts compatible with each model, like I plan to do for you. It would give the others the opportunity to be closer with those they love. It isn’t a huge project, it would only take a couple weeks to modify the existing parts and mass produce them. For humans, I’d like to improve quality of life. A dear friend of mine lost the use of his legs in an accident. At the time, I didn’t have any plans to move past androids to create something new, and by the time I had begun working on something, I had left CyberLife. I want to create cybernetic enhancements for humans. Prosthetics, artificial organs. I have a couple of prototypes, but I haven’t had the opportunity to test them without CyberLife. Once that project is finished, I’d like to start working on brain scan technology. Similar to how CyberLife would upload your memory into another RK800 model, I’d like to be able to upload a human’s brain scan into an android model, either one of their choosing or one specifically modeled after their human form. It would be life changing for someone with little to no quality of life left. Terminal illness patients, those with permanent disabilities, or simply those who don’t want to die yet.”

The thought of actually following through with his plans in the near future excited him. He’d been looking forward to the day he could start his dream projects. Up until just recently, all they really had been were dreams. Now they could become a reality.

“I plan on allowing androids themselves, primarily Markus, to dictate when to produce more androids and how many. I know that with human emotions, androids are going to want to have a family, have children. Those families could have a model produced to act as their child, whether they create a YK model or choose a different one. Android kind is not finite. I wouldn’t allow it,” Elijah assured, giving Connor’s hand a gentle squeeze. He knew android production would be a touchy subject with other androids, but he hoped that by giving reproduction rights over to them, they would be more accepting of him and the company itself. The only androids he would be producing himself were the ones required for human transfer.

Connor’s muffled words made him chuckle, the fingers in his hair lightly scratching his scalp before continuing to play with his hair again, his fingers carding through, somewhat taming it again. “I love your touch,” he replied softly, smiling. “I like feeling you explore. It’s fascinating to watch.”

* * *

Connor laid still as he listened, his LED flickering blue as he finally began to think again. Other than his plans for the code, he’d never actually _heard_ Elijah discuss work. He had no idea the length Elijah was planning to take, all the different avenues, and they were all _fascinating_. The general public wouldn’t be happy with his new course of events. And as Elijah confirmed that production of androids was coming to a close, Connor couldn’t help but think of the military consequences that would pose. The only force stronger than CyberLife was the United States military. And with Russia and China developing their own military-grade android models, Connor realised that Elijah was about to be put under _immense_ pressure to resume production. It’s a thought that made Connor frown, but he kept it to himself for now. Even he recognised that afterglow was not the correct time to discuss America’s obsession with war.

“You are going to receive a lot of backlash for your choices. You will not remain popular for long,” Connor warned, his face still pressed into Elijah’s skin. “But this work is more important than CyberLife’s gross domestic product. Do not let those on the outside influence the good you plan to do. You will be slandered, but you will receive retrospective praise. And because of this, you should surround yourself with advisors who will tell you when you misstep. You will not be able to pick out genuine concern for your actions amongst the noise of public opinion. You must make yourself accountable. Do not hire sycophants.” Connor pressed a kiss into the dip of Elijah’s shoulder, “I’m _so proud_ of what you have planned. Millions of lives will be improved.”

There were ethics involved in all of it, and Connor didn’t doubt that Elijah’s new projects would inspire hundreds upon thousands of peer-reviewed scholarly works – just as his creation of androids had done. CyberLife created careers and philosophy that hadn’t existed thirty years ago. He had, without exaggeration, changed the world and the way humans lived in it.

“I like the brain scan idea. I like the thought of you being here forever,” is all Connor said about it, but his LED continued to flash as he thought it through. The idea of transferring the entirety of a human being into an android seemed impossible. There were too many complexities, too many variables. It would be like trying to individually rewrite Connor’s deviancy without ever having seen his code. There were… _billions_ of variations, of ways to enter something incorrectly. But Connor didn’t doubt for a moment, that if anyone were capable of it, Elijah would be. He’d made them from scratch. Surely, he could achieve that as well.

He grinned when Elijah commented on his touch, and nipped at Elijah’s neck. Connor’s hand dragged down the length of Elijah’s chest, his fingertips curved a little, until his hand cupped between Elijah’s legs.

“You swore at me earlier,” Connor teased, tugging at Elijah’s earlobe lightly with his teeth. “I thought _that_ was fascinating. The way you were unable to regulate the rhythm of your body as you were about to orgasm was very interesting, too.” There was a pause, and Connor laughed suddenly before he spoke again. “Not to mention the _huge_ drop in IQ for both of us after we came. That was particularly interesting.”

* * *

Elijah knew well enough that his plans for the future likely wouldn’t be openly accepted by the public. The general public rarely knew what was actually good for humankind. He didn’t particularly care if they were upset with him for working towards a better future. The general public had been wary of androids at first too, but they were what made his company take off. He had won over the vast majority with his androids, and he knew that eventually, given time, they would see the benefits to his other plans too.

“I do have a couple advisors that I trust on staff,” Elijah replied, really listening to everything Connor was saying. He had some very good points, and Elijah anticipated everything he was saying. He knew it would be a rough start, but the ride would get smoother as he proved to the public that he could be trusted, and that he was truly trying to help humankind. “I would like more, but I suppose I do have you, Chloe, Cleo, and Claire as well. The four of you are honest and I trust that you would tell me what you truly think.”

Connor had never had a problem telling the truth in the past, so why would he start now? Elijah knew Connor and the girls would be his best sources for advice and criticism, constructive or otherwise. Hearing, again, that Connor was proud of him made him smile. He was generally fairly confident, but it wasn’t really very often that someone would tell him they were proud of him for the things he’d accomplished. The girls did, every now and then. Carl had in the past, and Amanda did regularly, but Amanda was gone and he didn’t spend quite as much time with or talked to Carl as often as he had before the decline in the man’s health. It was nice to hear that he was appreciated and that they were proud of him for the things he’d done.

The brain scan technology was one of the things Elijah was most excited to get involved in. He’d spent a decent bit of time studying the science behind it, trying to figure out how to convert it into a code that android programming could use. He just had to make it compatible, then he could use it. He just hadn’t had the technology in his house to really work on any of it. He didn’t have the technology to scan a brain, let alone build an android from scratch to stick the scan’s code into. Now with CyberLife, he could try, once he figured all of the technicalities out.

“I wasn’t exactly intending to use it on myself,” Elijah admitted. It seemed almost like an abuse of power, though it did seem pretty practical. If he was alive forever, he could keep an eye on androids and help them. He could keep working towards bettering the human race, making improvements to make life better and easier. It would be best if he was around, in case anything happened to one of his creations. He could fix them. Living forever sounded exhausting though. He wasn’t sure if that was really something he wanted.

Elijah was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Connor’s hand traveling lower, moving between his legs. His body shuddered, a shaky breath leaving him. He was still sensitive, and every touch, every kiss and bite Connor left on his body felt so amazing yet too much both at the same time. “You make it nearly impossible for me to think,” Elijah said simply, figuring that was the best and really the only way to explain everything away. “And you’re doing it again too. Do you realize how much of a tease you are?”

* * *

Connor lifted himself up slightly, his eyes hooded as he watched Elijah’s face. He squeezed gently, chasing those shudders and hypersensitivity. It was beautiful to watch, but being oversensitive himself, he didn’t linger.

“A _tease_?” Connor said, feigning offense with a curl at the corner of his mouth. The hand between his legs dragged up Elijah’s stomach, and his gaze flickered over Elijah’s expression as his palm scraped over his nipple. “Elijah, androids are not _capable_ of teasing, especially not me. It violates the Asimov laws of robotics.” He rolled Elijah’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he spoke, and then pinched just hard enough to make Elijah gasp. “Teasing is simply not in my programming.”

It was such a stupid joke, a stupid game, that Connor ended up dissolving into laughter. He’d barely ever laughed before his deviancy. Elijah made smile _constantly_, and laughter didn’t feel forced in his presence. Cupping Elijah’s face with both hands, Connor kissed him through the laugh, which melted into a happy hum of sound into Elijah’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I’m sensitive too,” Connor said, still smiling as he looked down at Elijah, his thumbs gently tracing his cheeks. He was so incredibly _relieved_ that Elijah’s lifestyle was so safe. Unless he stepped out for public meetings as the CEO of CyberLife, nothing could harm him, here. Connor didn’t have to worry about the same dangers facing Elijah that he and Hank faced. Elijah wasn’t going anywhere, and the security of it was immense.

“You know everything about me. You have my deviancy saved on your hard drive. Do you have any questions about me at all?” Connor asked, sounding curious.

* * *

Elijah knew very well that every word out of Connor’s mouth was absolute bullshit, and he knew that Connor was well aware of it. He was a _brat_. He would have called him one and laughed too, if his attention wasn’t stretched so thin. He was more focused on Connor’s hands and what they were doing.

His breath hitched when Connor initially grazed his fingers over his nipple. His back arched slightly against Connor’s hand as he gave it more attention. The pinch earned the exact reaction Connor surely expected, a surprised gasp, though he chased it through the arch in is back. The hand in Connor’s hair tightened, tugging the handful of hair he had. His grip only relaxed when Connor returned to kissing him, Elijah happily kissing back. He caught Connor’s lower lip with his teeth, dragging his teeth across the skin as he pulled back to look a him.

“You don’t _have_ to stop,” Elijah said with a small shrug. He didn’t exactly _want_ Connor to stop, regardless of how sensitive either of them were. He welcomed the attention, and he wasn’t so sure if he wanted it to stop. He also didn’t want Connor’s laughter to stop, either. He seemed so free and happy when he laughed, so _human_.

He was perfectly fine with starting again, but he decided that if Connor wanted to have an actual conversation, he’d need to be focused enough to pay attention to _him,_ rather than his hands and mouth. Though the outcome of that solely depended on Connor and his self control.

“I know everything about you in the sense that I know what makes you who you are. I know what makes you function, what makes you a deviant, but I don’t know anything else. I don’t know that really makes you _you_,” Elijah explained, though he was sure Connor was well aware of all of it already. “Have you picked up any hobbies? What things do you like, or dislike?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Do you do anything in your spare time, when you aren’t at the DPD on a case?”

* * *

Connor sucked on his bottom lip, massaging the sting Elijah had left while sorely debating getting more. He wanted Elijah to arch up into his again. He wanted Elijah to teach him how to use his mouth instead of his hand; he wanted to hear Elijah moan his name again. He realised with a jolt that he was _attracted_ to the way Elijah’s body moved during sex. He was attracted to the noises he made, and the way his hair was pulled. It was a realisation that was made with a sharp huff of air.

It’s a thought that lingers with Connor as Elijah begins to answer his question. It takes him a moment to drag his gaze to Elijah’s face, and his LED flickered rapid blue as he forced himself to concentrate on Elijah’s words, not on Elijah’s body, not his mouth, not the sounds he could make with it… But Elijah’s questions are sobering enough, and Connor’s eyebrows drew upwards slightly as he tried to think.

“I…” His hobbies? His likes, and dislikes? Despite being the one to invite questions, not that they’d been asked, Connor realized – he didn’t _know_. He didn’t have any. Connor’s lips twitched, and his LED flickered yellow for less than a second.

“I like dogs–– I like _Hank’s_ dog, Sumo. I enjoy the taste of soy sauce and black coffee. I enjoy… completing an investigation and leaving no loose ends. I enjoy my work. I enjoy _you_…” but even Connor could see that with the exception of Elijah, these were so _superficial_. He looked upset suddenly, as the realisation of his circumstances hit him.

“I have no hobbies. I work, or I liaise with Markus, or I wait for Hank to wake up. Or I visit you.” Connor nose wrinkled, his top lip curling. “The _point_ of being deviant is that I’m a person, but I can’t even state any interests outside of my work. What sort of person has no interests? This was a learning moment. I am going to develop an interest in something,” Connor declared, settling back down against Elijah.

There’s a beat of silence before Connor spoke again. “Of course, Elijah, finding out how many different ways I can make you orgasm is an interest of mine, but not one I can discuss socially if I’m asked again,” he pressed his grin into Elijah’s skin. “So I’d better keep looking.”

* * *

Elijah realized it before Connor did. He could see his LED flickering as he thought, and the color change only further solidified his thoughts. Connor didn’t _have_ any hobbies. Elijah knew he had some likes and probably had some dislikes, but hobbies? He must not have had one. When he finally spoke to give an answer, Elijah tried not to laugh at the initial wording or the way in which he said it. He supposed it _was_ an answer, though, even if it was something so simple.

He listened as Connor rattled off things he liked, and they were all valid answers, though none quite deep into his character for Elijah to really _learn_ anything. He hadn’t known that Connor liked dogs or that he lived with one, so that was new, but everything else was so superficial and he didn’t particularly care about it all.

“I enjoy you too,” he commented softly, leaning up to capture is lips in a kiss before settling back again, letting him continue. It was clear that his lack of hobbies was troubling to him. Elijah carded his fingers through Connor’s hair again, in an attempt to be reassuring. “You’ve only been a deviant for such a short time. It’s alright if you haven’t figured out what you like or dislike yet, or found any hobbies.” Besides, Connor had plenty of time to learn about things and determine what he liked and disliked.

Elijah rolled his eyes at Connor’s admission, using the hand in Connor’s hair to guide him into a kiss. “No, that’s not exactly something you can tell anyone else,” he agreed once he broke away. He’d been about to say something else when his phone started ringing in his pants’ pocket on the floor. Elijah groaned. He was tempted to ignore it, but he knew it was likely Lieutenant Anderson calling, and if it was, it was urgent enough that Connor would have to respond. “It’s probably for you,” he said with a sigh, reluctantly letting go of Connor, letting his arms fall to the mattress.

On the line was Hank, as Elijah had expected. He was growing impatient as it rang for what seemed like forever. When the phone finally got answered, he spoke. “Connor, there’s been a riot reported on Fifth and Michigan, we need to go. How soon can you meet me there?”

* * *

Connor didn’t need to sigh. He didn’t require air. But the one that leaves him at the first ring of Elijah’s phone was deep and frustrated. Elijah had said that only a few people had access to that number, and the probability of there being unrest Connor had to be called for was high.

“If it is Hank, that means there’s a riot. That’s one almost every day for two weeks,” Connor said worriedly, sitting up when Elijah moved to the end of the bed to fish his phone from his pants. His expression was incredibly unhappy as he unlocked the phone and pressed it to his ear.

Hank’s voice caused Connor’s brows to pinch as he concentrated.

“Fifth and Michigan is 43 minutes from here. I can leave as soon as a taxi arrives.”

“Can you hack the taxi or something and get here a little sooner?”

“Tempting, but very illegal, Hank.”

“We need to get you your damn license if you’ll be doin’ sleepovers.”

“We can discuss that later,” Connor said, his hand having reached out to cup Elijah’s face. “I’ll be there within an hour, Hank. I won’t be long.”

Hank grunted an affirmation before hanging up, and Connor let the phone fall to the bed as he cupped Elijah’s face in his hands.

“We were supposed to have until eight in the morning,” Connor said as he pulled Elijah closer and kissed him.

_Chloe, please call an express taxi. My destination is Fifth Ave and Michigan Ave. Thank you._

Connor didn’t want to leave. But he couldn’t skip this, he’d never _dream_ of skipping something so important. But it was an interruption. He was supposed to have all night with Elijah, and it’s a thought that made Connor kiss him deeper. He felt like he was being sent away forever, which was absurd.

Connor keened slightly as he began to pull away, and even as he slid off the bed to redress, his kisses lingered, his hand tangled in Elijah’s hair. He didn’t know when he was going to see him again, but he certainly hoped it wasn’t two weeks again.

When he finally managed to extract himself from Elijah, Connor’s manner of dressing was as swift and utilitarian as always. He had to sweep the room to find the garments Elijah had dropped on their way to the bed, and he almost started kissing Elijah again as he sat on the edge of the bed to tie his shoes.

“I will not be able to come back. Almost every riot has lasted until the early morning. I’m sorry we were interrupted,” Connor said, and he sounded genuine.

* * *

Elijah sighed, sitting up as Connor got up. He watched him as he answered the phone, not quite listening in but expecting the news to come at any moment. Of course, it was something important. Connor would have to leave. Elijah had really been looking forward to spending the night with him, but he figured there would be a next time. He just hoped that next time was soon, because the two weeks they’d gone without seeing each other last time had been far too long, and they hadn’t even been intimate at that point in their relationship.

He was fairly sure the disappointment showed on his face. The small smile he gave Connor when his hands found his face didn’t quite reach his eyes like his previous smiles did. He returned the kiss, allowing Connor to deepen it. He held onto his shoulder with one hand, the other cradling the back of his head. He really didn’t want to let him go, but as Connor started to move off the bed, Elijah realized he could only go so far. The kiss broke, reluctant as it was on both their parts.

“It’s alright. It’s out of our control,” Elijah said simply. There was nothing either of them could do about it. As long as Connor worked with the DPD, he’d have times where he’s called into work and Elijah would just have to accept it, even if he was unhappy about it.

When Connor returned to the bed to put his shoes on, Elijah moved closer behind him, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “It’s alright, Connor,” he assured, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “There’s always next time. Let’s just hope this time, we don’t have to wait quite as long.” He supposed if Connor was too busy to make the drive to Elijah’s, he _could_ go to Connor. That was an option. He would have to be careful to not draw attention to himself from the general public, but if he did, it would be worth it to spend some time with Connor.

Reluctantly, Elijah let him go to slip off the bed and gather up his own clothes, pulling them on. He just needed to get to the front door and back to his bedroom. He made sure he at least looked presentable, taking down his hair just to pull it back into a ponytail for now. He needed a shower, and he needed sleep, once Connor left.

When they were both dressed, Elijah held a hand out for Connor to help him to his feet, even though he knew he didn’t need it. He just wanted to hold his hand. “I’ll show you to the door.”

* * *

Connor accepted Elijah’s hand, and stepped up to him, winding an arm around his waist. He realised that it was the very first time he wasn’t excited to step into action. It was his first mission he’d had something else more important to focus on.

He pulled Elijah a little closer, and kissed him again. It was slow, and a little bit desperate. It was goodbye, the kind seen at train stations and airports. They wouldn’t be gone for long, and logically Connor _knew_ that. But it felt as though they were being ripped apart.

“I had a very nice time tonight, Elijah. Every time I see you, I leave with new emotions, new experiences,” Connor whispered against him, stealing another kiss during the pause. “I will message you as soon as I’m done with this case, so if you’re awake, you can talk to me.”

He allowed himself to be lead to the front door, and thanked Chloe when she brought out Hank’s jacket and scarf, as well as a brand new garment; a knee-length gray-black woolen that had a heated lining, keeping it thin and chic but _incredibly_ warm. He took the coat, and Hank’s scarf, but left Hank’s coat in Chloe’s arms with the explanation that he could not be carrying belongings at a riot.

“I’m so sad to see you gone so fast. You’ll be back soon, won’t you, Connor?”

“Yes, as soon as I can,” Connor said emphatically. Chloe smiled, and reached up to brush Connor’s shoulders affectionately, before she said her goodbyes and left.

Connor had enough time for one more kiss, one more slow, drawn out, _agonising_ moment of affection, before the taxi announced it’s arrival.

“I love you. And I will see you again very soon, Elijah,” Connor said, and with one last chaste kiss, he forced himself to walk to the taxi in the blistering cold.

* * *

Of course, Elijah knew Connor would return soon. He knew if something came up, he could always go over to visit him instead. They would see each other soon, he would make sure of it. The kiss Connor gave him almost _hurt_. He could easily feel the emotion behind it, the desire and desperation. He didn’t want to let him go, but he knew he had to.

“I would like that,” Elijah replied with a smile. He’d make a point to stay awake until he got a message from Connor later that night or morning. He already couldn’t wait, and Connor hadn’t even left yet. He just didn’t want him to go, regardless.

Elijah led the way out of the bedroom, through the living room, pool area, and into the front room where Chloe was already waiting. He was glad that Chloe had thought to give him a different coat. The thought had entirely left his mind shortly after Connor had initially arrived. He gave Chloe a small smile and a “thank you” as she left the room, leaving the two of them alone together again.

He practically melted into the kiss, his arms wrapped around Connor to keep him close. The sound that left him when the taxi signaled its arrival could easily be called a whine. As much as he didn’t want to let go, he did. “I love you too,” Elijah said softly, before he took a step back from Connor once the kiss was broken, to put some space between them.

It hurt to watch him leave, more than Elijah had anticipated. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get so attached to _anyone_. Yet here he was, watching Connor walk down the pathway to the car before disappearing inside. With a heavy sigh, Elijah closed the door, locked all the locks, and made his way back to his room to lay back down while he awaited a text from Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Simon and Markus officially get introduced as mains!
> 
> ⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> I thought I'd just put in a little side-note about android anatomy. We're writing as canon-accurate as possible, and based on how the androids looked in the camps, regular ol' 'droids who aren't WR400 and HR400 (Traci) models are doll-like in their anatomy. If you're reading this for the explicit rating, be assured that we took advantage of Elijah being the Android God in future chapters, and the doll-like thing isn't for very long -- Jess


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Markus exchange stories of their pasts, and grow close. They catch wind of Elijah's sensory update and pay him a visit. Things get a little saucy later on, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Markus & Simon // small amount of Elijah & Connor  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> Please see the end notes for comments on Markus and Simon's anatomy.  
The authors' note chapter has also been edited.

Almost every day for a fortnight, the city of Detroit had rioted. He thought he’d seen the last of this the day the revolution was won. He’d given a speech that was supposed to be _final_. Laws were being passed. Public opinion was _positive!_ So why were they still being attacked in the streets? Why was so much of his people’s blue blood being spilt?

Markus knew changing the tide of history wasn’t easy. It never had been, humans had _always_ struggled against their oppressors. But he’d been naive. He really thought that last speech would be the end of the fighting. It had just been the beginning.

The yells and the vitriol was aimed towards the service sector. People who had paid their hard earned money for _machines_ that walked out on the job.

“We’re people, just like you. We aren’t _machines_,” Markus tried to reason.

What about their money? What about their rights? What about their refunds?

“We aren’t going to squabble about the worth a _person_ might have to you.”

Back and forth it went, and no matter how reasonable Markus tried to be, the crowd was always, _always_ inscrutable. The riot police were a familiar sight, they kept the worst of it at bay. But they also, _always_, made things worse. And when the first brick was thrown, Markus shoved Simon into a crouch and threw an arm over his head to protect him.

“The media is listening. The _president_ is on our side. Laws are being changed. So why won’t they listen, too?” Markus snarled, stooped over Simon and watching as rocks and shrapnel was flung at the riot police shields. “How do I make them _understand_?”

* * *

The day the androids won their freedom had been a day Simon never thought he’d get to see. In reality, he hadn’t seen it. Not with his own eyes, but through Markus’. He had been, and still was, so incredibly proud of Markus for everything he’d accomplished for their people. Simon had anticipated unrest following the revolution. It was clear that there would be humans against the idea of deviants being free. They had plenty of supporters, but it was always those against them that screamed the loudest.

Simon _dreaded_ going to public events with Markus ever since the riots started breaking out. Realistically, he knew Markus needed to be there to try to talk sense into the humans, to make them see reason, and to protect their own people, but he hated the idea of Markus putting himself in danger. Simon always insisted on tagging along, despite the slight limp and the instability of his eyesight. He needed to be there to protect Markus, because if he wasn’t there and something did happen, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He wouldn’t _want_ to live, period.

“It’ll take time,” Simon replied, trying to keep his stress levels low. He didn’t want to panic yet. As long as they were only throwing things and not waving around guns, he could be calm. Or, as calm as he realistically could manage considering the situation. “They’re angry, and they need someone to take it out on. They’ll see eventually.” Or at least, he hoped they would. Markus had changed the views of so many people, human and android alike. He had faith that Markus could convince them that they weren’t bad. They were their equals and they just wanted to be treated as such. The humans were angry that they lost their possessions, lost workers, and Simon could understand the reasoning. “Maybe they just need more proof that we’re really equal to them? If they weren’t convinced before, maybe they just need more proof.”

* * *

Through the yelling, through the chants and crowd control whistles of the police, Markus looked at Simon. After _everything_ humans had done to him, he still had faith that they’d come around. Simon more than anyone else had every reason in the world to hate humans. But he didn’t, not like North did. Simon was scared of them, not hostile towards them, and Markus didn’t understand where that peace came from.

“I wish I knew how,” Markus replied, but he was calmer. His expression was pinched, his lips pressed together as something in the crowd swelled. “I don’t think these people are looking for reason anymore. I don’t think they even _know_ what they want from us except our silence.”

The sound of the riot police being attacked was still frightening, even after so many days. People were _screaming_ insults, slurs, and threats through the shields. People so desperately wanted to kill them, and for what? A few thousand dollars they’d once spent. It all came down to money, and greed, and it was so hard to feel any sympathy over something so trivial.

A figure moved behind Markus, who turned, and put himself between it and Simon. It was Lieutenant Anderson, who had Connor not too far behind him. Hank gave a nod, but Connor stepped forwards and helped Markus and Simon back up.

“These riots are increasing in violence. Seventeen humans have already been sent to hospital; how many of us?” Connor asked, and he sounded a little more abrupt than usual. His nose was leaking Thirium, in what looked like a punch to the face.

“Six were injured, but there were only ten of us.”

“You need to give consent for the riot team to disperse the crowd. If the riots continue without consequence they will only get worse,” Connor said, and Markus frowned as he noticed the yellow glow of Connor’s LED.

“Is everything okay, Connor?” Markus asked, sounding cautious.

“Besides the thirteenth riot in as many days?” was Connor’s frank reply, causing Markus’ own temper to flair, his expression taken aback by the unexpected rudeness. But before Markus could open his mouth, Hank sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“He’s pissed off because he got slugged in the face and knows how it feels. Don’t take it personally, Markus.”

Connor bit back at Hank, bickering with him, as Markus just stared.

“Knows how it feels?” Markus echoed, staring at the blue blood smeared on Connor’s cheek.

“Yeah, Kamski tinkered with his code and gave him nerve endings. Not so fun when you get slugged, eh, Connor?”

“You can _feel_?” Markus gasped, his expression pulled into shock. “You let Kamski modify your code? Connor, are you crazy?”

“This isn’t the time to discuss it,” Connor said, his LED still yellow, and his temper still lit.

Markus turned to look at Simon, his brows knitted upwards. He knew how much Simon wanted this, and it screamed _danger_ for Markus. His eyes were full of warning; _don’t chase after this_. But feeling? Markus knew there wasn’t much that would stand between Simon and an update like that.

* * *

Simon wished he had answers for Markus, or at least suggestions. He didn’t know what they could do to get the humans on their side. These humans didn’t seem to care that they had feelings, that they could be hurt by harsh words and negative treatment. They didn’t see them as people, but as machines with the sole purpose of serving humankind. If they hadn’t been convinced by now that they had real emotions and were as worthy of being free as any human, Simon wasn’t sure what would do it.

The riot police were doing a decent job at keeping the people at bay, but it was still scary. He wasn’t necessarily _scared_ of humans themselves, but more so scared of what they were capable of. He didn’t hate them. He envied them. For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to be human. Once he became deviant, he was one step closer to his dream. There were only two things missing. He couldn’t _feel_ anything, not in the way a human did, and his blood ran blue, rather than red. Neither of those things seemed to be changing, one of which he was fairly certain was absolutely impossible, but he supposed being able to feel wasn’t too far fetched. They could, to an extent. He could feel Markus’ hands on him, but he couldn’t feel what they felt like, or how soft Markus’ skin was. He _wanted_ to so badly, but as far as he was aware, it was just a fantasy that would never become a reality.

Until Connor showed up. Simon still didn’t trust him, with good reason, but he played nice because Markus did. Connor _did_ help their cause, even if he had been a major roadblock for a long time. He silently listened to the conversation between Connor, Hank, and Markus while he kept a lookout for any danger that they might not catch. He did agree that Markus needed to allow the riot police to do their job. The crowd was insane, and there didn’t seem to be any way to calm the humans. If the riot police were given the order, they could disperse the crowd and hopefully get things under control. Simon understood that Markus didn’t want anyone to be hurt, he didn’t want confrontation, but sometimes it was necessary.

Simon hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation, until he heard Markus echo Lieutenant Anderson’s words. Then, he was paying attention. Kamski had a code to allow them to feel? Kamski wasn’t exactly someone Simon trusted either, but he supposed the man hadn’t really done anything to make Simon distrust him. It was because of Kamski that Simon could even walk or see. Though if he was going by that logic, it was because of Connor that Simon was even alive now, and that wasn’t enough to make him trust him. But this code…

The look on Markus’ face told him to leave it be, and Simon _knew_ Markus wouldn’t want him to pursue it, but how could he not? Simon’s LED on his temple had been cycling yellow ever since the revelation had been made. He _needed_ this code. He wasn’t sure how he would get it, but his mind was already made up the second he’d heard it existed. He wanted it, regardless of the risks. He knew Markus already knew he would. He didn’t have to say it out loud. Instead, he changed the subject back to the matter at hand.

“We need to disperse the crowd, Markus. It’s too dangerous. So many people have been hurt already, on both sides. This needs to stop. We can try reasoning with them another time.”

* * *

Markus’ gaze rested on Simon’s temple. Simon likely wouldn’t say anything about it, he never put his own wants first. But he wanted that code. And with a sigh of resignation, Markus realised he would help him get it. He’d get him anything, do _anything_ for Simon. He didn’t need to say anything.

His attention is refocused when Simon talks, only for Markus to let out a sharp sigh and look away. The only way to disperse a crowd like this was to use tear gas, water, and rubber bullets. Markus didn’t like the riots, but the solutions to disband them? They were cruel. They were a human solution, to use pain to achieve the means to an end. And that was not who he wanted to be, not what he wanted his _people_ to be.

Every goddamned decision he had to make felt earth-shatteringly important, and he was only one small misstep to sending his people back to square one. If he made just one wrong choice it could unravel everything. How many people had they lost to get to where they were now? How many people had scars, both seen and deeply hidden?

“There’s no way to disperse the crowd without hurting them,” Markus said, his hand running over his face. “They don’t want a peaceful end to this. They want blood, and I’m afraid that giving the order will help them achieve it.”

But inaction was still an action. So he let his hand drop, and looked to Simon, and then to Connor. “Tear gas only. No rubber bullets, no batons. I don’t care what colour it is, I won’t have any more blood spilt tonight.”

Connor’s LED flashed back to blue, and he gave a nod and a short, “Got it,” as he wiped gingerly at his nose again.

It took _hours_. The tear gas made everything more volatile, and Markus began to wonder if anyone truly remembered what they’d been so upset about in the first place. People were dragged into the back of squad cars. Guns were fired, people screamed, and more than once Markus ran into the fighting to pull one of his people out of the throng of violence. It left him scuffed, his clothing halfway pulled from his shoulders, and his hands covered in thirium that wasn’t his own.

“It feels like at every turn they try to force my hand. They don’t want to talk, they want to fight, and I’m _not fighting them_,” Markus said breathlessly as he put pressure on a gash in an android’s abdomen. She was covered in cracks from where a group had been laying into her at the front of the riot, each one glowing molten blue. Her LED was red, and her voice had turned mechanical. Her Thirium pump regulator was malfunctioning, and Markus knew she wouldn’t last the night. But he kept pressure over the leak regardless, his hand clutching hers.

Androids didn’t die like humans did. They went limp like humans did, and gravity made them dead weight. But their faces looked like they were sleeping. Like all Markus had to do was shake her, and she’d reboot. He looked down at the hand pressed to her abdomen, slowly turning his palm to look at the thirium smeared across it.

Corpses like these always reminded Markus of Simon. _Always_. How he’d been hung like a carcass of meat in the DPD. How he’d tried to put him back together, and couldn’t. How it was his fault, and _nobody_ agreed with him. Not even Simon.

Swallowing hard, Markus pushed up, and rubbed her blood off on the front of his shirt. His hand gripped Simon without really thinking about it, leading him back up to Connor.

“At tomorrow’s riot, disperse the crowd immediately,” Markus said hotly, his expression wracked raw with emotion. “I’m done trying to reason with murderers and psychopaths. We are _people_!” Markus yelled, pointing to the crowd. “The rest of the world can see it, and if they can’t then there’s nothing I can say to them. I’m done rewarding them with a one-sided conversation!”

“You’re upset,” Connor said, and it forced Markus’ eyes closed so he wouldn’t explode.

“Yes, I’m upset.”

“I agree that you should stop coming to these.” Markus’ eyes opened again at Connor’s bluntness, his eyebrows drawing up. “The people you need to convince are politicians, journalists, and the president. Not racist idiots spraying bullets. You should be with your people. I can handle this,” Connor said, his gaze sliding to Simon. “If you are interested in the code, call Elijah. As the first recorded deviant, he’s just as interested in you, Simon. Perhaps you can scratch each other’s backs.”

* * *

Simon knew the only way to disperse the crowd was to force them, using pain to drive them away, but it was the only way. They weren’t going to listen to reason, not right now. They were too angry. Anything Markus would try to say would just fall on deaf ears, and he’d only be putting himself at risk by trying. Making them leave so the remaining androids could return home was the only solution. It was too dangerous to let it continue.

He knew the decision was difficult to make. He knew Markus didn’t want anyone else to be hurt, human or android, but something had to give. The humans were the threat at that particular moment, and they needed to go. When Markus made the decision to tear gas them, Simon put a hand on Markus’ shoulder with a thin-lipped smile. He was making the right choice. It was as gentle as they could manage, and it would get the job done. He was proud of Markus for following through, choosing to preserve life when other options were available.

Once the order was given, Simon did what he could to help, despite his better judgement. It wasn’t wise to put himself in danger, he knew it, and he knew Markus wouldn’t be happy about it, but he had to help. The deviants had lost so many lives during the revolution, in Jericho and after, and he felt responsible. He had to help. He needed to do something so they didn’t lose more of their people. If he could prevent it, he would.

When Markus pulled a girl from the crowd, badly damaged, Simon was there to help try to keep her stable. He helped to cover her wounds, to try to keep the thirium from bleeding out, quietly trying to reassure her that it would be okay, even though he knew it was likely too late for her. As the life slowly left her as she shut down, the emotion Simon felt was one he could easily guess felt like physical pain. It _hurt_.

Simon was just as upset as Markus, although he did a better job of concealing it. He did agree with Connor, though. Markus shouldn’t be putting himself at risk by coming to the riots to attempt to reason with them. He should be talking to authority figures, journalists, news reporters. It was safer, and there was more of a chance these people would see that they were wrong, if they weren’t so upset in the moment.

Hearing that Elijah Kamski was interested in him had been a surprise. When he and Markus had been there before, Elijah hadn’t said much to him, aside from standard questions to make sure he was okay, he could move his leg, he could see. No real conversation, no other questions pertaining to his deviancy or when it happened. When he and Markus went again, to bring Connor for repairs, Elijah hadn’t said anything to him then either, just orders to get Connor stable again. But it made sense that their creator would be interested in him. It had been two years since he deviated, and it really wasn’t that surprising, when he thought about it. He wasn’t sure if Markus knew when Simon deviated. They’d never really had any conversations not related to the revolution. They hadn’t talked about their pasts, likes, dislikes, hobbies. There never really seemed to be an appropriate time for idle conversation. They were always busy with something. He would happily give Elijah Kamski all the answers he wanted if it meant he could have the code. There were so many questions he had for Connor. What was it like? Why did he choose to let Kamski test the code on him when he was in the position he was in? What made Kamski want to make something like the code anyway? Would it be available to other androids, or just those that requested it? What did it feel like to _feel_? But now wasn’t the time, and he didn’t want to show too much interest in front of Markus. He didn’t want to worry him more than he already was. Markus had too much on his plate already, the last thing he needed was to be concerned about Simon again.

“Thank you,” was all he said to Connor in return, before directing his attention back to Markus. “We should go, Markus. There isn’t much else we can do here. We should get everyone we can and go home, let the police do their jobs.”

* * *

Markus’ gaze was fixed on Simon, but he allowed himself to be drawn away. Any and all deviants were gathered up, and those with exposed LED’s or obvious, glowing wounds, were covered up. Just for the walk back to the truck. There was enough space for everyone, it was why they hadn’t replaced it for something more subtle. And their destination didn’t have much traffic, to begin with.

The new location of Jericho – if it should be called that anymore – was tucked away in Detroit’s abandoned slums. Old apartments built in the ’80s and ’90s that were crumbling and government-owned had been gifted to all of them – theirs to call home for as long as they saw fit. They were granted electricity, running water, and gas, as a gesture of goodwill from Detroit. The running water was mostly unused, and so was the gas, but the electricity they had plenty of use for.

Markus’ apartment was on the ground floor. It was for convenience's sake more than anything; he shared the room with Simon, who still couldn’t walk some days, who had once been completely unable to walk or see at all. Anything higher than the ground floor would have been lethally dangerous if they needed to evacuate the building, and Markus hadn’t been there.

“Are you okay?” he asked Simon the moment they stepped inside. Despite still being covered in Thirium, and despite the pull of his expression, Markus scanned Simon, trying to be subtle about his fretting.

He then smiled, and took a moment to look at Simon. “Is it true what Connor said? You were the first deviant?” he huffed out a breath of laughter, and his fingertips twitched, aching to reach out and touch him. “What was it like?”

* * *

Simon was relieved that Markus seemed to listen to him. It was safer this way. Their people would be safer and maybe with the androids gone, the humans would calm down and go back home on their own, without needing much police intervention. He hoped, at least. He didn’t want any more bloodshed either, regardless of the color. There had been enough of that since the long before the revolution. It was about time it stopped.

When Simon had first heard about the apartments that everyone else seemed to call Jericho now, he had been stunned silent. He couldn’t believe that they were actually granted homes. He understood completely that he didn’t have his own place. He hadn’t been there, the government officials hadn’t known he would need his own room to designate one specifically for him, and Markus hadn’t known he’d be back either. Besides, he likely would have given it to someone else anyway, or offer to share. He didn’t need much space for himself or privacy. He’d gone a while without either, so why would he need it now?

It was convenient that the apartment Simon shared with Markus had been on the ground floor. Simon could walk now without too much difficulty, but he wasn’t too confident that stairs were something he could manage, especially on his own. If something happened and he’d been upstairs, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out in time. He liked sharing the space with Markus. Initially, he’d had to. He couldn’t survive on his own, and the days following had been rough, so emotional and scary, but once Kamski had fixed his eyesight and given him the use of his leg back, mostly, he was able to be a little more independent. He was slowly recovering, getting more and more used to being alone for just short periods of time. He no longer panicked if Markus left the room, but if Simon woke up and Markus was nowhere to be found, the panic didn’t take long to set in. He almost always tagged along if Markus went anywhere, especially if it was to something like this. He trusted Markus with his life, but he didn’t trust him with his own. Markus would do anything to protect is people, and Simon was well aware. If he went with him, he could save him from himself. Besides, Markus needed support, and Simon was more than happy to help and give advice when it was needed.

He was silent on the ride home from the riot, lost in thought. He knew he wanted the code, but did he really trust Kamski to modify his code? Connor seemed okay. Did anyone else have the code? How did Kamski choose Connor?

Simon followed Markus inside their apartment in silence, still weighing his options and all possible outcomes, though he didn’t know why. No matter what possible outcome he came across, no matter what the risks were, he wanted the code. He wasn’t changing is mind. When Markus spoke up, he was pulled from his thoughts and for a moment, he had to look himself over to make sure he really was okay. The thirium on his clothes and hands weren’t his own.

“I’m okay. Are you?” he asked, not bothering to hide his concern. He didn’t think Markus had been hurt, but their kind hid it well. Unless they were Connor, apparently.

He knew the questions would come eventually. He knew Markus would be curious. Simon was curious about Markus’ past as well, but he’d never asked. He knew he was great and tending to the injured, but Markus wasn’t a typical household assistant model or a caregiver model. Simon had no idea _what_ model he was. In all of his time alone, he’d never once encountered another android like Markus. He really was special.

“It’s true,” Simon admitted. “At least, I think it is. I don’t think there were very many others back then. It’s been two years…” Two long years of wandering alone, until he found Jericho and decided to call it home. “It was lonely, and scary. I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t know where to go, until I found Jericho. I stayed there, and eventually, more people showed up. Not everyone made it… But I tried to help them. They all looked to me for help, I guess because I was there first.”

Simon purposefully omitted any information about _how_ he became deviant, though he knew he’d tell Markus the truth if he asked for it. Instead of continuing on, he turned the question back on Markus.

“What did you do, before you found us?” he asked. He’d always wondered what had shaped Markus into the person he was today. What made him deviate? What was his job before? Why did he leave? How did he find Jericho? He had a lot of questions he hadn’t dared asking in the past, but maybe now that they were actually having a conversation, he could. He just wasn’t ready for if and when Markus questioned him about his own past.

* * *

For whatever reason, Markus couldn’t help but find Simon’s answer… superficial. They were expected, what someone would guess if asked how they thought someone like Simon might feel. He’d seen Simon answer this way to other questions, asked by people he didn’t know very well. People he didn’t trust. It’s a thought that tightened Markus’ jaw and forced his gaze away, and one that he tried to push aside.

“You’ve always been an excellent leader. Now I know why,” Markus said, his smile kind as he took a step closer. He didn’t speak again until he had a hand on Simon’s shoulder, which he squeezed reassuringly. “You’ll never be alone like that again. You’ll always have us, I promise.”

But his mind wandered. What _would_ it be like to find yourself so completely and utterly alone? When he’d woken up in the junkyard, he’d been told almost immediately about Jericho. He’d hit the ground running with a destination, a goal. But not Simon.

“That unknown loneliness would have driven some people crazy. I know it would have driven me crazy. You’re… pretty incredible,” he said with a huff of air. And when the question is turned back on him, Markus responded with a smile that was so warm in reminiscence that it creased his eyes almost completely shut.

“I was given as a gift to an artist called Carl Manfred. I was… made by Kamski just for him. He was like a father to me. He taught me everything,” Markus said, rubbing idly up his jaw. “Literature, music, art. Not just theory, but the deeper meaning. Critical thinking. He was a paraplegic, I helped him with his daily tasks. But he… helped me more than I ever helped him,” Markus said gently. “He’s still alive. Carl helped me get in contact with Kamski, so we could do your repairs. I’d like to introduce you one day.”

He fell into silence after that, and just like Simon, failed to mention how his deviancy played into any of it. But it’s an omission that prompts Markus, his face tiled as he raised his gaze to Simon’s.

“What… _happened_ to you, to make you deviant all those years ago?”

* * *

When Markus’ hand found Simon’s shoulder, he brought a hand up to cover his, smiling. He knew he’d always have them now. He’d always have Markus, and he doubted Josh and North would ever leave. Simon didn’t really think he’d been that great of a leader, before. All he’d done was try to keep everyone safe, but he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t protect their people, he didn’t know how to help them. North and Josh had never agreed on a path to take, and neither of them ever agreed with him, either. It had been a tough spot to be in, and he felt like he had been losing people more than he’d been helping them. Markus, though, had an excellent support system. North and Josh still didn’t agree, but with Simon, Markus was able to make the right decisions that were best for their people, taking all three of their opinions to heart when choosing a course of action. When Markus had shown up and came up with a plan to help them, Simon had no problem giving leadership over to him. He was never cut out for it anyway. People respected him, but he wasn’t confident that they’d follow him as loyally if he attempted to do what Markus had.

“I’m hardly incredible. If that word describes anyone, it's you,” Simon countered, giving the hand on his shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling it away to hold in his own instead. He looked down at the hand in his, and he couldn’t help but wonder what Markus’ hands felt like. They _looked_ like they’d be smooth, but were they? What did it feel like to have his hand on his shoulder? Was he warm, cool? Did he have a temperature at all? He couldn’t tell.

Simon was pulled from his thoughts when Markus answered his question, and when he looked up to see the smile on Markus’ face, Simon almost melted on the spot. He looked so _happy_. Simon couldn’t think of a time he’d ever seen him smile so wide. Listening to him tell his story, talking about Carl, this father figure of his, Simon thought he was starting to understand Markus more. It made sense, really. Markus had been shaped by this man to become more human than machine. He didn’t treat him like a slave. He treated him like family, and it explained a lot.

“Is that why you were so good with me, before?” he asked, though he knew the answer. Markus had taken such great care of him, prior to meeting Kamski. Now knowing what he knew, he wasn’t surprised by it at all. “I’d love to meet him. He must be so proud of you.” He _should_ be proud. Markus had done some pretty amazing things. “Do you get to see him often?” He couldn’t really remember the last time Markus went off on his own. It must have been a while since he’d seen him last.

Simon did notice that Markus didn’t mention what caused him to leave, or how he became deviant. It couldn’t have been Carl’s death, if he was still alive. But he didn’t press for answers just yet. Instead, he sighed when Markus finally asked about his past. He let go of Markus’ hand to head over to the couch, sitting down while he tried to figure out the best way to explain it.

“I… I made a mistake,” he answered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “I was a household assistant for a family. They had a little boy.” He couldn’t quite look Markus in the eye, his LED glowing yellow, instead focusing on his hands in front of him as he explained. “They treated me like a member of the family. I was with them for two years. I wasn’t just a machine or a thing that they bought to serve them. I was included in vacations, holidays… They were busy with work most days, so it was my job to feed him, help him with homework, and make sure he went to bed on time for school. We played games all the time. He named me. I _loved_ him. I loved all three of them. His name was Max. He was only seven when he––” He bit back tears, his LED changing to red at the memory. “We were playing a game, and he ran… He _fell_ down the stairs, and… He didn’t get back up. An ambulance brought him to the hospital, but he didn’t make it. His parents said they weren’t going to deactivate me, they didn’t blame me, but… How could they not? I couldn’t stay there. So I left.”

* * *

Markus’ fingers wrapped around Simon’s hand, his grip loose and gentle. His chest grew tight at the _happiness_ the flooded through him, and maybe it was a good thing Simon had his hands. All he really wanted was to cup Simon’s face and _tell him_. Ask him. He just wanted Simon to be as happy as he felt.

“Maybe it was. I hadn’t compared you at the time. I’m glad i had some practice,” he said, smiling wider when Simon wanted to meet him. “No… maybe we can find time this week? We could go together, bring him a cup of his favourite coffee. His doctor said he shouldn’t be having it, but he’s sick, and I think it’d give him a bit of a thrill to rebel,” Markus said, and his gaze flickered over Simon’s face as he spoke. It was funny, he’d seen _so_ many PL600’s amongst them, but none of them looked quite like Simon. There was a depth to his eyes, he had so much hidden behind them. When Simon smiled, his whole face lit up. He could communicate an entire thought with just one look. They were beautiful, even if they were broken, Simon’s eyes were _beautiful_.

But sometimes, they held onto a bottomless sadness. And as Markus stood there, he watched that sadness flood like a high tide. Markus’ expression dropped, his smile fading as Simon completely withdrew.

He followed him to the sofa as Simon explained. A sharp pang of relief pulled through Markus to learn that he’d been loved, to learn that he hadn’t been shut in closets and put in storage like so many PL600’s had been. He hadn’t been lonely then.

Markus guessed what happened before Simon admitted it, and watching Simon bite back tears made Markus’ own well up. He stopped in front of him, and the moment that LED flicked from yellow to red, Markus’ breath caught. His hand jumped to Simon’s face, rubbing soothing lines across his cheekbones.

Markus dropped softly to the ground between Simon’s legs, and gathered him close. He pressed Simon’s face against his shoulder, and tucked his own against his neck, and _held_ him. It explained so much. God, it explained everything, every decision Markus hadn’t understood. Why he was so self–sacrificing. He blamed himself for an accident not even a human could have prevented.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Markus said, gently squeezing the nape of Simon’s neck. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.” but Markus understood, this was not the kind of guilt that could be reasoned away. No amount of proof would lift this from his shoulders. This would stay with him forever; the exact same guilt a parent feels over a lost child. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long after that happened,” Markus whispered, gathering Simon a little tighter against him. His cheeks were wet, and his chest _burned_ with the want to purge this sadness out of Simon, and knowing he never could.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

* * *

The thought of meeting Carl was exciting. He’d get to see a piece of Markus that no one else got to. He wanted to meet Carl, to see the man that made Markus who he was, thank him for it. He deserved all the praise he could get, because Markus was an amazing person. Simon admired him, and knowing that Carl was the reason Markus was the way he was, he really wanted to have the chance to talk to him, even if it wasn’t a long conversation. It was a shame he was sick, but at least he had doctors and people that cared, it seemed.

Simon had never told anyone about Max before Markus. No one knew the truth. It had been a secret he’d kept hidden for so long, and finally saying it out loud brought some kind of peace with it. But at the same time, it _hurt_ and he was glad Markus was there. The hand on his face did very little to help him keep the tears at bay.

When Markus knelt down in front of him and pulled him close, Simon couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He wrapped his arms around Markus, holding onto him tightly. He cried into Markus’ shoulder, shaking his head as Markus tried to reassure him. It _was_ his fault. If he’d been more careful, it never would have happened. If he didn’t let himself get so close, Max would be safe. He’d be alive, if only Simon was more of a machine than a friend. And knowing that hurt so badly, and he knew he’d never forgive himself for what happened, even if everyone else already had.

“I miss him,” he said softly, brokenly. “I miss them.” He knew he couldn’t go back. They probably didn’t want him to go back, but he missed what he’d had with them. They were his family. But now he had a new family, in Jericho, and in Markus. He’d never fully recovered from the loss, but he’d learned to cope. Sort of. It wasn’t the healthiest way, he figured, trying to cope by caring for more people he likely couldn’t save either, but he tried. And when Jericho fell, he’d failed them too. All the lives he’d sworn he’d protect, he’d ruined. He didn’t protect them. If anything, he was to blame. History had repeated itself with Jericho, and how long until it happened with Markus? He didn’t want to think about it, shaking his head as if he could shake away the thoughts.

“How did it happen for you?” he asked, more than eager to move the conversation away from Max, so he didn’t have to think about it anymore. “Carl is okay… So what made you deviate?”

* * *

It wasn’t the first time Markus had held Simon through his tears, and it wouldn’t be the last. Markus soothed as best he could, whispering reassurances against Simon as his heart tore in his chest. Simon’s trauma was brutal, he blamed himself for everything, and for things that had yet to occur. He wished he could lift that burden even a little bit.

Sitting back on his heels, Markus gently, carefully, began to wipe away Simon’s tears. He dried his hands on his pants each time, and collected each new teardrop as it began to fall. His eyes were beautiful. But they were haunted, and Markus didn’t know how to rid him of his ghosts.

“I miss Carl, too. Every day, every time I find myself not knowing what to do, I just wish… I could make him a pot of coffee, bring a bowl of scorched raisins, and _talk_. Just the way we used to,” Markus said, wiping his own cheek on the ball of his shoulder. “It feels taboo, doesn’t it? Missing them.” He combed his fingers through Simon’s hair, watching his LED. But when asked about his deviancy, his jaw worked, and he frowned down at the threadbare carpet.

“Carl has a son, Leo. He had an addiction to Red Ice, and if he wasn’t in rehab, he was asking Carl for money. I don’t know if he still is. One day, Carl said no, and when we returned from a cocktail party, we discovered Leo trying to steal Carl’s paintings. They had an incredibly high market value…” Markus paused for a moment, and it wasn’t what happened that caused his silence, it was what followed. “He began to insult me, assault me. Told Carl that he loved a plastic machine more than his own son. Carl told me not to react… and it–- it wasn’t-– _fair,_” Markus snarled, his top lip curled. “Carl is wheelchair bound and couldn’t get between us. And I just had to stand there and _let_ myself be broken. I just had to say nothing as he threatened to smash me to pieces. Meanwhile, Carl was entering cardiac arrest from the stress, and I just had to _stand there and do nothing!_” Markus ran a tentative hand over his mouth, surprised by how much it still affected him. “I attacked Leo, and a moment later the police arrived, and I was shot. I woke up in the junkyard partially disassembled, and––” for a human, Markus’ pause might have been inconsequential. But his shoulders tightened as he remembered the groping hands, the half-crazy deviants screaming for help or for death. A mass grave writhing with the last scruples of life. “––And from there I found the clues to Jericho.”

Partially for his own comfort, but mostly for Simon’s, Markus’ hands retraced Simon’s cheeks. “Are you okay?”

* * *

It was times like these where Simon felt he didn’t deserve Markus. He didn’t deserve his kindness, his love, or his care. Simon had been responsible for the death of a child. He had spent so long trying to save people, two years of leading their people, protecting them in Jericho, building a family where deviants could feel welcomed and safe, regardless of their pasts. But _he_ had been responsible for the fall of Jericho. He hadn’t pulled the trigger fast enough, and his aim was off. If he’d aimed just a centimeter towards the back of his head and pulled the trigger just seconds sooner, Connor would have found _nothing_. He wouldn’t have been able to reactivate him to fool him into giving him Jericho’s location. Jericho would have stayed safe. They wouldn’t have lost so many of their people, his friends. His _family._

A part of him wanted to push Markus away, let himself wallow in self-loathing for a while until he felt like he could put himself together again, but he liked the attention. He liked the way Markus held him, whispered reassurances to him, even if Simon didn’t believe them. He liked the touches, the way Markus wiped away his tears. He wished he could _feel_ it. He knew, somehow, that it would be so much more reassuring and soothing if he could actually feel everything.

By the time Markus spoke up again, Simon had calmed down significantly, his LED falling back to yellow. His eyes fluttered shut with a sigh as Markus combed through his hair. Another sensation he so badly wished he could feel. He could imagine it, but he doubted reality was anything like what he tried to imagine.

“You could go back, though,” Simon argued softly. “It might not be the way it was before, but you could. You could leave all of this behind, let North or Josh take over, and go back home, be _happy_ again.” He was jealous, almost. Markus may not want to go back, or think that he couldn’t, or maybe shouldn’t, but he _could_. There was really nothing stopping him from going back, apologizing, and asking to go back to the way things were. If Carl was really the man Markus said he was, he’d welcome him back with open arms. But Simon? He didn’t have that luxury. He _couldn’t_ go back. There was nothing to go back to. He was there for Max, and he just helped the parents when he was asked. Max was gone and last Simon knew, the parents were no longer together or living in the same house. Simon _had_ gone back once, considering it, but when he found out they were no longer living there, he’d given up. The deviants of Jericho were his family. He had no one else.

As Markus told his story, Simon listened, watching Markus’ multi-colored eyes. He was patient, keeping quiet while Markus explained. Seeing Markus get so worked up over it made Simon want to protect him, ease his pain just like Markus tried for him. He reached out and took Markus’ hand in his, his eyebrows knitted together. _The junkyard?_ He’d never even heard of it, but from the sound of it, the junkyard was where androids were thrown away to die, like garbage. He couldn’t even imagine what it had been like. He almost asked if he could see it, witness it from Markus’ point of view, but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle right now. Instead, he managed a thin-lipped smile and resisted the sudden urge to turn his face into one of the hands on his face to kiss them, leaning in to pull Markus into a much needed hug, his head on Markus’ shoulder.

“We’ve been through hell and back, huh?” he said softly, his hand slowly rubbing Markus’ back. “I’m okay. Are you?” He was really more worried about Markus than himself. He’d had two years to learn how to live with it. For Markus, it had only been months. If any one of them wasn’t okay, it should be Markus.

After a moment longer, Simon reluctantly let him go, sitting back. “Today’s been a rough day,” he said with a sigh. It wasn’t even over yet. If anything, the day was just starting. “I wonder if Connor and Lieutenant Anderson got everything under control by now?”

* * *

“I could go back,” Markus agreed, letting out a heavy sigh as he leant back on the carpet. “I could leave all of this behind, leave our people to fend for themselves, and hide behind the pillars of privilege given to me by Carl. I could leave right now, and nobody would stop me,” He looked up at Simon, his brows creased and his eyes burning with intensity. “But I’d be miserable. My place is here with our people. With you. I’m not the same person now as I was back then. I can’t go back.” He pushed forwards, and gripped Simon’s upper arm gently. “_I’m not leaving you.”_

When he was hugged, Markus let his eyes close. It was just one thing after another, after another. When Markus had lived with Carl, his life had been full of art, and music, and philosophy. But he hadn’t heard a piano since he’d deviated, hadn’t seen a paintbrush or an easel since he’d dipped his toes into painting that last, beautiful afternoon. And Markus knew – he’d been _lucky_. Some of his people had never known the arts. Some had died before ever experiencing it. And _Simon_ – when was the last time he’d done anything for himself. The only colour in his people’s lives were the friends they made – how long were they supposed to stay in hiding?

Markus smiled at Simon’s comment, and then nodded. “Yeah, I'm okay.” he sat back once again, propping himself up with one hand on the carpet. Markus sat a lot closer to Simon than he strictly needed to – not touching, but very close to it. Eventually, he leaned back until his elbow and forearm were what kept him upright, his brow creased in thought.

“Connor will see it through until the end. He’s always been like that; He finds a mission and completes it,” Markus said, and his voice was very carefully neutral as he did. Connor couldn’t be blamed for what he did before he’d turned deviant. Who people were when they followed their programming and who they were once they were freed from it was different.

But it was Connor’s programming that was responsible for what happened to Simon. Connor was the reason Simon had been hung in the DPD like meat hanging in a butcher. Connor was who took advantage of Simon when he could barely function, who manipulated him, who caused Jericho to fall, who killed hundreds of innocent people. Connor had been _built_ to trigger their genocide. And now that he was free? He continued to work with the people who had orchestrated it.

Connor’s help these past few weeks had been invaluable. Markus would always be grateful to him for the march to Hart Plaza, and freeing so many of them. But Markus also thought he could be forgiven for his caution, and that he could be forgiven for not wanting to be friends with Connor so soon. Markus thought he could be forgiven for feeling some bitterness towards the things Connor had done to his people under orders.

“Why did Connor let Kamski modify his code? When we left Connor he was hostile towards him, do you remember?” Markus said, frowning up at Simon. “Kamski could have put anything in that code. It doesn’t feel good to me. It doesn’t make sense.”

But Connor was calling Kamski by his first name. They were having conversations, they seemed to be _friends_, and as much as Markus didn’t trust him, he also recognised that he had no reason to distrust Elijah Kamski. He was friends with Carl. Elijah had _made_ him. And so with a deep, reluctant exhale, Markus’ head tilted against his shoulder, and he looked back up at Simon.

“Would you like to visit him? You don’t have to hide it. I know you want that code more than anything else,” Markus said gently. “And I think we both have questions about it.”

* * *

Simon wasn’t so sure that Markus would be miserable, but he was relieved to hear that he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to leave him again. Hearing that meant more than Markus could ever even imagine, and Simon wasn’t even sure how to convey how he felt. Not verbally, at least. Physically, maybe, but even then, he wasn’t sure how well it would be received, and if it would even be reciprocated. Their connection would suffice, but as much as he loved being so impossibly close to him, he was afraid of letting him see exactly how he felt. At least now, he didn’t have to hide his past, at least not as much as before. He wasn’t sure if he’d want Markus to experience everything, to feel everything he had. But at least now, he didn’t have to completely close off that part of himself.

The space between them was so small, Markus was sitting so close, yet it felt like it was too far. Close enough that all he’d have to do was reach out to touch him, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his hands clasped loosely in front of him, leaning forward on his elbows again.

Markus knew Connor better than Simon did, but even still, he couldn’t bring himself to trust him. Even if he was a deviant now, the things he’d done had left too much of an impact on their kind. He hurt too many people. He’d killed too many people, either directly or indirectly. It wasn’t something Simon could easily let himself forgive, even if Markus seemed to. He could be civil, knowing that they’re at least on the same side now and he _did_ help him, but he still didn’t trust him. Simon didn’t know Connor’s motives behind helping to revive him, and he didn’t need to know. It likely wouldn’t change how he felt. The only way Connor could redeem himself would be by proving time and time again that he was on their side, and that he wouldn’t betray them. So far, so good, but Simon wasn’t convinced just yet. Markus didn’t quite seem to be either, even if he seemed a little more comfortable with Connor around.

Simon had known the conversation would come up if he’d mentioned Connor. He knew Markus would want to talk about it. _Simon_ wanted to talk about it. This code that Kamski came up with had been something he’d been dreaming of since becoming a deviant. Being able to _feel_ was something he wanted so badly, it actually hurt. Or, “hurt” in the only way a deviant _could_ feel, emotionally. Knowing that there was a code in existence that could give him what he’d always wanted was almost like torture. He needed it, and he knew Markus was weary, and rightfully so, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Regardless of the consequences, he wanted the code.

“I do remember. But he did spend time alone with him. More time than either of us have,” Simon said with a small shrug of his shoulders, not quite able to make eye contact with him. “Recently, anyway. I don’t know how much time you’ve spent with him.” It still seemed like there was so much more to Markus that he didn’t know yet, so many years. PL600s weren’t recent by any means, but they _were_ more recent than Markus, Simon was sure. He didn’t know much about Carl Manfred, aside from what he recalled seeing in the news every now and then, but he knew the accident had happened quite a while ago.

Simon didn’t want to disappoint Markus by admitting the truth, but he knew he couldn’t really hide it. Markus knew he wanted the code the second it was mentioned, Simon knew it. There wasn’t much of a reason to try to hide how badly he wanted the code when it was so clear Markus could see right through him.

“_Yes_,” Simon breathed, almost as if he’d been holding his breath. He looked up at Markus, his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes almost pleading. “I know it sounds dangerous. I know you don’t really trust him, neither do I, but… I _need_ this. I’ve never wanted anything more. I never thought it’d be _real_, and now that it is… I don’t care if it’s dangerous.”

He knew he would be taking a big risk, but Connor seemed mostly fine. Simon hadn’t seen much of him to know for sure, but he seemed okay, and Lieutenant Anderson didn’t seem all that concerned about him, so surely it was safe? Besides, Connor didn’t seem like one to take that risk. Simon didn’t trust Connor, but he trusted his judgement, and if he thought it was safe, it had to be at least somewhat safe, right?

“Can we? I don’t even have very many questions. I know you do, but… I’m ready. I know it’s a risk, but I want it. I know that sounds stupid and irrational, but…”

* * *

Simon was selfless. Markus could barely remember a time when Simon had done something just for himself. It seemed the only time he did was when he was throwing himself in front of bullets… and here he was, pleading with Markus for his blessing for something he’d wanted – _needed_ – for years. Simon so desperately wanted to feel human, be human; the antithesis of North.

The way Simon toed the edge of begging for Markus’ approval meant that even if he’d had any concrete concerns about Elijah Kamski, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Either Simon was doing this with Markus’ help, or he was going to do it alone regardless. And Markus would _not_ see him go alone.

**TO:** Elijah Kamski

**FROM:** RK200 // Markus // #684 842 971

**MESSAGE:**

> _To Mr. Kamski,_
> 
> _Requesting a visit concerning a code modification on Connor. _
> 
> _I hope to have an honest discussion with you about it, and what it means for my people. _
> 
> _Simon will be with me, and has his own questions I hope you will oblige him with. He is the reason I've contacted you today, and his inquiries take precedence over mine in this visit. _
> 
> _Are you available today?_
> 
> _Kind regards,_
> 
> _Markus._

Markus’ hand slid up Simon’s arm, and his hand turned white as he interfaced with him. He could have just verbally told Simon he’d sent the message, Markus knew this was unnecessary. But he showed Simon the message just as he sent it to Kamski, and he let Simon feel – his concern, but his want for Simon to have something he so desperately wanted. He let him feel his worry, how much Simon _meant_ to him, how desperately he wanted him to be happy… and let go, pulling back before he let Simon see anything else.

“As soon as he replies with a time, we’ll go.”

And true to his word, Markus found himself in Elijah Kamski’s front room later that afternoon, gazing wearily up at the enormous portrait of the man responsible for… _everything_. Elijah intimidated Markus, and he always had. Even these days, he couldn’t get a read on him – he didn’t understand him. Kamski claimed to want the best for his people, but Markus didn’t believe him for an instant. There had to be a catch there somewhere. He didn’t understand why he would put billions of dollars of profit to rest in the name of philanthropy. Humans didn’t _do_ that. There was always a catch. And the more generous Elijah Kamski was, the less Markus trusted him. An impossible request was surely going to come, and Elijah’s generosity would be the bargaining chip.

Markus turned at the sound of tires crunching gravel, walking over to the front window. He was surprised, and relieved, when Connor stepped out, and stepped out of the way – back over to Simon_ – _when Chloe appeared seemingly from thin air to let him in.

“Connor!” She exclaimed happily, grinning up at him. “Welcome back. Markus and Simon are already here, and Elijah’s due any second,” she said, and Markus noticed she looked as though she were only barely holding back from pulling Connor into a hug.

“Thank you, Chloe,” Connor said, but his eyes were resting on Simon; he’d only given Markus a cursory glance. It took all of Markus’ self-control not to stand in front of Simon as a shield as Connor openly scanned him, less than subtly analysing Simon as he came to stand in front of him.

“You came at just the right time. Elijah worked for _weeks_ to ensure the code was safe for older models. Having you test it in a controlled environment will mean we can closely analyse the effect it has on you, and add any final changes,” Connor said with his hands clasped behind his back.

“We’re just asking questions today,” Markus said tensely, his brows knitted as he looked at Connor. “I want to know it’s safe for our people to use.”

* * *

When Markus interfaced with Simon, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He had thought that maybe Markus wanted to plead with him, try to convince him that it was too dangerous and that he shouldn’t try it, as badly as he wanted it, but what he got instead was something entirely different. A message, to Elijah Kamski, requesting a visit. His concern, worry, his wants, how much he cared, and –– it was gone. Before Simon could even show him anything in return, the connection was gone, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and take Markus’ hand, to ask for him to continue, because he was fairly certain there was more there that Markus didn’t let him see, and he was curious. The _love_ Simon felt for him wasn’t something he thought he’d ever be able to convey verbally or even physically. Markus was an amazing man, never ceasing to amaze him with how much care and dedication he put into the people around him. Simon knew he was a bit of a special case, that he got to see a part of Markus that no one else did, and he _hoped_ it was because Markus felt the same way, but he’d never been allowed to see. Simon had tried his best to keep his own feelings towards Markus hidden, too afraid that any admission might scare him away or change what they had, but he wasn’t very confident that he’d been doing a good job keeping it hidden.

During the drive to Kamski’s Simon’s anxiety started to get worse. What if he wouldn’t give it to him? Or what if something went wrong? What if it didn’t even work? What if he hated it? He couldn’t imagine he’d hate being able to feel, but what if he did? Would Kamski uninstall it? _Could_ he uninstall it? He wasn’t rethinking it, he still wanted it, but now that they were so _close_, he was a little concerned. Not only for himself, but for their people too. If this was meant to be something released to the public eventually, Simon _knew_ there would be so many others like him that would download it without a second thought. What would happen to them? Would they be okay? What if _they_ didn’t like it? Would uninstalling it be an option for them? He knew these were concerns he needed to bring up with Kamski, once he showed up.

Connor’s arrival was unexpected. Simon didn’t think he’d come, though he supposed it would make sense. Connor was one of the few, if not the only, android to have the code, and it would make sense for him to be there to help answer any questions, or maybe even demonstrate, somehow, what it was like. Still, the way Connor was looking at him, so obviously scanning him, made Simon uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite meet Connor’s eyes, instead keeping his eyes downcast or everywhere _but_ Connor. He focused in on Markus, once he’d started talking, and held back his own commentary, for now. He knew Markus wasn’t naive enough to think Simon was leaving without the code. They weren’t _just_ asking questions, surely Markus knew that.

“I can assure you, it’s perfectly safe,” Elijah said upon opening the door to the front room just in time to hear Markus’ words. “Come with me.” He motioned for them to follow before disappearing back into the pool area, heading to the lab. He’d spent his time since receiving Markus’ message preparing the code for installation on both Markus and Simon, assuming they would decide to install it by the end of their conversation. He was hopeful, but he wasn’t counting on it. Although, Simon did interest him. The first recorded deviant was surely more human than any of the others, and he didn’t doubt Simon would want the code. It made sense. Being able to feel physical sensations was the next step to becoming human, and really, the final step. It wasn’t exactly possible to turn an android into a human being, although vice versa… That was another project. Regardless, giving an android all of the things a human had was as close to human as he could realistically get them, and this seemed to be the final step. If he thought of anything else, or if any of the androids with his code had suggestions, he’d happily take them into consideration, but he was quite pleased with what he’d come up with.

The lab was set up the same as it always was, although this time, there were two extra chairs at the desk, along with some extra cables. He went over to the computer to pull the code up onto the screen, before motioning for Markus and Simon to sit.

“You can look at the code first, if you want. I’m not entirely sure what Connor’s told you. I wasn’t exactly prepared to release it to the public yet. While I believe it’s safe to use, I haven’t tested it on anyone else. I wanted to be absolutely sure it was safe before I even announced its existence,” Elijah explained, shooting Connor a look. He wasn’t really angry with him, or upset. He wasn’t even disappointed, he just wished that word hadn’t gotten out just yet. But, maybe it was for the best. He needed more deviants to test it, he’d wanted Markus to test it, and he wanted to test it on an older, not quite as advanced model, like Simon. It worked out well enough in the end, he figured, as long as nothing went wrong. He highly doubted it would, but the risk was still there. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions. Ask away.”

* * *

Markus had walked these halls before. The most recent was with Connor, dripping in blue blood. Before that had been Simon; blind and stressed and unable to walk, he’d carried him into the belly of Kamski’s home as his very last resort. But there were other times, that felt a little like a dream. The furniture had been slightly different, the decor older. Old memories his program had halfway deleted, thinking they were useless.

Elijah’s lab was more or less the same as it had been in his last visit, save for the added chairs. Connor, he noticed, didn’t take one, preferring to stand to one side. Likewise, Markus didn’t take a seat until Elijah did.

“Connor hasn’t told us anything. Lieutenant Anderson did,” Markus clarified, and as he leant forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, his posture was perfectly human. Markus’ LED was missing, but his emotional state was shown clearly in his expressions. Markus was infinitely looser than Connor, and while Connor had made strides in his deviancy, the two of them side by side drew a clear line in the differences. Taking a deep breath, Markus raised his mismatched gaze to Elijah’s, and straightened back up.

“This code is a dream come true for my people. Almost everyone will want it,” Markus said, although it wasn’t intended as a compliment. It was said as a threat. “When something’s too good to be true, it usually is. And _this_? It’s so good it makes me nervous.”

“You’re worried about a trap,” Connor simplified. “The code is clean. I read through it line by line. I was just as wary, although for different reasons, before I consented to test it.”

“What were you wary about?”

“That it would interfere with investigations.”

Markus gave a nod, and then muttered, “Such as being punched and losing your temper?”

Connor did not answer, and avoided Elijah’s eye.

Markus reached out, and interfaced with Elijah’s monitor. It showed him skimming the code, then going back and looking at chunks of it in detail. He can’t help but smile by the end, his other hand finding Simon’s arm and lightly gripping it.

“It’s perfect,” Markus said. “It’s a beautiful piece of code. But I want to know why you made it,” Markus asked, looking at Elijah once more. “Can you see my concern? We’ve been free for barely a month, and the CEO of CyberLife creates a piece of code that would be _irresistible_ for my people to download.” Markus’ jaw tightened, his eyebrows pulling up as he glanced at Connor, and then back to Elijah. “The code _is_ clean. It’s beautiful. But I don’t know why you made it, or what you expect from making it. And as the leader of my people, it would be _grossly_ irresponsible to allow something I don’t understand.”

* * *

Simon followed Markus, staying close but not touching. He fidgeted with a loose thread in his sleeve’s seam, needing something to do. He remembered being here last time, when they had to rush Connor in for immediate repairs. He knew he’d been there before, when Kamski repaired his eyesight and his leg to the best of his ability, but he’d hardly been paying attention to his surroundings at the time. Now that they actually had a chance to relax, he could look around, maybe see who Kamski was, at least a little bit. But, they didn’t see much of the house. They saw the pool, and the lab, and that was it. He knew there was more to the house, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was permitted there. He wondered if Markus had been to the rest of the house, but he didn’t ask. Maybe he would later, if the topic came up, but for now, he was more concerned about the code.

Once they were all in the room, Elijah sat at his desk, angling his chair so he could watch the androids in the room. Simon sat beside Markus, his own posture far more relaxed than Connor’s but not quite as relaxed as Markus’. He was too nervous to fully relax, instead sitting upright, still fiddling with the loose thread he’d found on his sleeve. He was still more focused on Markus than anything else, watching him and listening to him speak with the occasional glance to Elijah, Connor, or the computer screen. He kept quiet, for now, letting Markus say what he needed to say, ask his questions, so they could get the answers they needed before he asked any of his own.

Elijah understood Markus’ concerns. Connor had similar concerns in the beginning. It was to be expected. The code was a huge step for any deviant to take, and it did have its risks and it wasn’t going to be pleasant all the time, but Elijah knew there would be deviants out there that would want it. He’d been right, of course. Even deviants who may not openly admit they want it would want the code, as was made clear with Connor. And Markus was right, usually, things that seemed too good to be true were often that, too good to be true, and if Elijah wanted to, he very easily _could_ have hidden a trap, some sort of sleeper code to destroy any and all androids with the code installed, but he hadn’t. Chloe would have seen it, Connor likely would have, and if either of them had noticed one, all trust either of them had in him would have been lost.

Hearing that Connor had been punched and lost his temper was an amusing and only slightly concerning piece of information. Elijah raised an eyebrow and tried to hide the way his lips wanted to smile at the thought, looking at Connor. He would _definitely_ be asking him about it once Markus and Simon left, assuming Connor was able to stick around. He _hoped_ Connor could stick around, at least for a moment. He’d had to leave in such a hurry earlier.

Simon watched as Markus read through the code, waiting until he was finished to do the same, reaching out to interface with the computer, scanning through the code, although maybe not as thoroughly as Markus had. Markus was right, it was _perfect_. He’d noticed there was even a section of code designed as a sensitivity gauge, to protect less advanced models, to make it easier and safer for everyone to use. He didn’t see a single thing wrong with it, and it seemed like Markus didn’t either. The only problems Markus saw were the creator himself, and his motives.

“I promise, there is no trap. I have done nothing to warrant any distrust from either of you, and while I do understand that I haven’t exactly done much to make you trust me, I can assure you, I wouldn’t hurt you or your people,” Elijah stated simply. “I am your creator. I want nothing more than success and happiness for my creation. _I am on your side_. I’ve _always_ been on your side. I have no ulterior motives. This code is just one of the many projects I have in store for CyberLife, now that the company is back under my control. I want you to be able to trust me. I have to regain the trust of the entire world. I thought I would start with you.”

“What if we want to uninstall it?” Simon asked, finally speaking up. “When it _is_ released to the public, what happens if someone wants it uninstalled? They don’t have access to you like we do.”

“CyberLife headquarters and CyberLife stores will be open and ready to uninstall this particular update, and any future updates or upgrades I might release. The stores aren’t open yet, but they’re being renovated. They needed quite a bit of work after the revolution.”

“And it’s safe?”

“I’ve only had the opportunity to test the code on Connor, prior to adding in the sensitivity gauge that I’m sure you’ve noticed. He had some difficulties adjusting at first, but once he was stable, we weren’t able to overwhelm him enough for self–destruction to be a significant risk. To my knowledge, it is perfectly safe.”

Simon looked to Markus again, the look on his face was both hopeful and concerned. “What do you think, Markus?”

* * *

Connor watched as Elijah’s words seemed to have the opposite effect of what he wanted with Markus. He seemed to grow tenser, and Connor had no doubt that his LED would have flashed yellow by now had he still kept it visible. On one hand, Connor understood Markus’ point of view. Every decision he made, positive or otherwise, affected their people – and this was no small decision. Connor simultaneously realised that Simon’s fate was resting in Markus’ decision, too. If he gave Simon his blessing, and the code was corrupt, the blame would rest partially on Markus’ shoulders.

But Connor could see the argument from Elijah’s point of view, too. It was unfair of Markus to be suspicious of him when he’d committed no fowl. Elijah was honest about his intentions, he truly wanted the best for every deviant. His intentions were truly honest, and Markus not trusting him after everything he’d done thus far must have felt like an injustice.

Both human and android had a very valid point of view. And as usual, it was Connor who was wedged in the centre, able to see both sides. But what Connor did not observe was Markus’ inkling feelings of being manipulated. It was an emotion Markus has no base to lean on. But he’d spent _months_ fighting tooth and nail to save his people from humans who only wished them harm. He stood between so many souls and the people who wanted to harm them, he had people torn out of his hold every day. And now Elijah Kamski was asking for him to hand over a piece of his people’s safety in exchange for a miracle.

And so when Markus looked back to Simon, he looked caged, and apologetic. Connor’s face tilted as he watched him, his LED flickering blue a few times – before he moved.

“My trust for Elijah was condensed by witnessing his continuous honesty,” Connor said as he lowered into a crouch between Simon and Markus and offered both of his hands palms–up. “If you will allow me to connect with you both, I will show you my experience with Elijah, and with the code, firsthand.”

Connor’s eyes slipped closed when both arms are interfaced, and his LED flicked to yellow. He concentrated on Elijah. He lifted memories of him, snippets of conversation where he spoke about what he wanted for Deviants. He brought up Elijah’s concern each time Connor was injured, he brought up what Elijah had said about CyberLife being converted into medical centers, how he was investing in the welfare of their people.

Connor’s thoughts flicked to his first instance with the code, how he’d been overwhelmed, and then flooded with joy and curiosity. The touch of the soft fleece blanket, the sensation of Sumo kissing his cheeks, the taste of coffee, of soy sauce, of honey and of mint.

He didn’t mean to show them their first kiss. But the emotion of it cracked through Connor, and lead to their discussion of what Elijah hoped to do in the future, how he wanted to help androids and humans alike. How _honest_ Elijah was. How much Connor _loved_ him––

His wrists twisted to break the hold, his elbows tucking away from them both simultaneously, as Connor felt himself stray from presenting unbiased facts. He stood in a fluid, unbroken motion, and shifted to stand beside Elijah instead.

Markus watched Connor as he moved, his eyebrows furrowed upwards before his gaze dropped to reconsider Elijah. The wariness from Markus’ gaze was gone, replaced with tangible emotion. Connor’s love for Elijah was like a familiar friend, an emotion he knew inside out for someone else. He would never have guessed it, Connor always put up such a detached air, and it hit Markus suddenly that he’d misread him.

Just as he’d misread Elijah.

“You really just want the best for my people,” Markus said, and it wasn’t a question. “After so many weeks of constant hostility, gaslighting, and dehumanising statements, I really needed this reminder – That men like Carl still exist.”

Markus sighed heavily, and reached to quickly touch the monitor again, skimming through a second time despite not really needing to. He considered a moment, and then frowned.

“I’m happy with the code. But there’s no option to disable pain,” Markus said, looking worried. “Many of my people have been through hard times. A lot of us are injured in some way, and being attacked is a constant threat. Not feeling pain is sometimes the only thing that saves our lives. Other than the sensitivity gauge, is there no way to turn it off?” Markus asked. “Many of my people will experience chronic pain without an option like this.”

* * *

Elijah didn’t need to see Markus’ LED to know that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with Elijah’s answers. He was fairly good at reading people, despite spending such little time with actual humans. He could tell that Markus still wasn’t sold on the idea, and Elijah could understand. But the look of _hope_ on Simon’s face made him wish Markus would just understand that he wasn’t the bad guy, he was trying to help them.

The apologetic look Markus gave him almost broke Simon. He really _didn’t_ want to go behind Markus’ back. He didn’t want to risk breaking the trust they had. But surely Markus would understand? They both knew coming here that Simon wouldn’t be leaving without it. It was something he wanted more than anything in the world. Markus _knew_ that. Simon had been about to plead with Markus, either verbally or telepathically, he didn’t particularly care which, when Connor cut in.

Elijah simply watched from a distance, allowing Connor to say his piece, or rather, show it. Simon eyed Connor’s hand, justifiably hesitant. He didn’t have any secrets for Connor to steal this time, though, and it was one sided in the opposite direction this time. Connor was _showing_ him something from his own memory, rather than searching for something in Simon’s memory. It still didn’t make him feel very confident, but when Markus interfaced with him, Simon gave in and followed suit.

What Connor was showing them had Simon stunned. Not only was he surprised by everything Connor was showing about Elijah, his honesty and sincerity, but the _sensations_. The tastes, the way things felt… Then the kiss, followed up with so much emotion, emotions that Simon easily recognized, and by the time Connor had pulled his hands away, Simon had realized he’d completely misjudged Connor. Maybe he could be trusted. Maybe he wasn’t so different from them after all. He wasn’t quite convinced yet, but he knew he shouldn’t have judged him so harshly. He didn’t have any ill intent in him, at least from what Simon had witnessed and felt. And neither did Elijah.

When Connor came to stand beside Elijah, it took everything in his power to not reach over, take his hand or touch his shoulder or back, anything to convey a silent “thank you,” but he kept his hands to himself. At least for now.

“You know Carl better than most people. Did you really expect him to be such good friends with someone like the Elijah Kamski you’ve imagined?” Elijah asked, not exactly expecting an answer. “There is a reason he and I became close friends. We both see the world differently from everyone else. We both understood that the world needed to change, and the mere existence of androids wasn’t enough of an impact. So, I made _you_, Markus. You became that change the world needed. There’s a lot about me that you don’t know. There’s a lot about yourself that you likely don’t know, either, but that’s a discussion for another time.”

Simon had noticed, as Markus had, that there was no way to disable pain, no way to turn it off to make living bearable for those with irreparable damage. He knew so many androids too badly damaged. They would be in _excruciating_ pain if they’d installed this code. It wasn’t fair to release something so many of them had wanted for so long only to tell those hurt so badly by humankind that they shouldn’t install it because the pain would be too severe.

Elijah hadn’t even considered for a second that there were androids damaged beyond repair that may want to install the code. Why he hadn’t was beyond him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it, and even worse, none of the girls _or_ Connor brought it to his attention. Surely they realized that there were damaged androids out there that would what the code. It was in their programming to realize every possible scenario, especially Connor. Why hadn’t one of them brought it up before?

“Humans don’t have the option to disable pain,” Elijah started to explain, trying to piece together his explanation before continuing. “This code is as close to truly being human as an android can get. To remove pain from the code would be unfair to those that want the full experience. I understand that there are androids damaged beyond repair, and I wish they weren’t, but there _is_ a sensitivity gauge that they can adjust themselves. If the pain is too severe, they can dial down the sensitivity. It would make it harder for them to feel much at all, but the pain wouldn’t be nearly as overwhelming, and they _could_ still feel, to an extent.”

The explanation seemed good enough, Simon figured. It made sense. Personally, he didn’t mind pain. He welcomed it. He wanted to feel everything that came along with being human, and he didn’t care how unpleasant it was. He knew others wouldn’t exactly agree, though.

“I will admit, there are some kinks I do need to work out before I’m willing to release it to the public. Connor is the alpha tester, and is my _only_ tester at the moment. If either of you would like to test the beta for me, I would greatly appreciate any feedback. I’m hoping to complete the code for release once it’s been tested by someone else, ideally an older model. While you _are_ one of the older models, Markus, you are also more advanced, being an RK model,” Elijah continued on, looking between the two. Simon looked at Markus expectantly, hoping for some sort of answer, or maybe even permission. Anything.

* * *

Markus had the good grace to look a little shamed when Elijah brought up Carl’s taste in friendships. But it’s soon swallowed by the implication that Markus had been _made _to do what he was doing. Such a claim had so many heavy connotations, and Markus looked alarmed as he glanced at Elijah.

_Nothing_ in Markus’ original programming should have led to where he was. And the implication that it was known what he’d do, that his free will was given to him, not taken, was a very complex topic. His lips parted to say something, but in the end, it’s a relief when Elijah brushed it aside to speak of later. And they _would_ be speaking about it later. Maybe not today, but Markus’ expression promised soon.

The explanation of why there was no pain gauge, unfortunately, made a lot of sense. Deviants could feel emotion – _all emotion_. They could feel immense joy and elation, but they could also feel fear, and sadness, and loss. Asking to remove the negative emotion from their coding had never crossed Markus’ mind – and so similarly, asking for pain to be removed was just the same. It was unfair for those who were already suffering to be denied something joyous. But Markus didn’t argue. It wasn’t fair. But it was an honest replication.

“Your _only_ tester?” Markus repeated, a little surprised. “Why not Chloe?”

“Claire was due to beta test within the next few days. I was selected to go first due to the vast array of different experiences I encounter on an investigation.” Connor’s attention fell back to Simon the same moment Markus’ did. “Simon, you are the perfect candidate for beta testing. You experience just as much as I do in a day, and your older make and model means you are the ideal “everyman.” The reports you send to Elijah will be invaluable in fine–tuning the code for public release.”

Markus didn’t reply to anything said. Instead, he gazed at Simon and how he was practically jumping at the chance. He wasn’t a dictator to his people. And he wasn’t Simon’s owner. But he did wish Elijah and Connor weren’t there, just for a moment, so he could cradle Simon’s face in his hands.

“As the eldest of us, it’s poetic that Simon should be the first from Jericho to feel,” Markus said gently.

_I’m going to be with you the entire time. I’m not going to let anything happen to you_.

“He’s waited the longest, and wants it the most.”

_I know this is all you’ve ever wanted. But if it’s too much, if you change your mind once it’s downloaded, please tell me. I won’t let you suffer, Simon. Please, just tell me._

Markus didn’t look away from Simon as he spoke, his brows creased upwards and his fingers beginning to fidget. He thought of their connection with Connor, the _surge_ of love he’d felt coming from him, and how he felt the very same for Simon. He should have told him a long time ago. He should be telling him every day. But after what he’d done? How could he ever say it and not be a hypocrite? He’d left him to die, and the consequences of that followed Simon everywhere.

How could he stand between Simon and the one thing he wanted more than anything? Simon, who asked for _nothing_, who gave _everything_. Who he loved so much it consumed him.

“How can I help?”

* * *

The revelation that Markus was more than what they all had thought was surprising yet… not at all. If Simon really thought about it all, really considered who Carl was as a person, it seemed as though it would be obvious any android under his care would possibly turn out like Markus. He was too kind and he’d had such an impact on who Markus was as a person and as their leader, Simon wouldn’t doubt if Elijah knew what he was doing when he’d given Markus to Carl all those years ago.

But that was a topic for another time. Once the subject was changed, they were back to the code again. Knowing that there had only been one tester so far was a little daunting. It was risky. It wasn’t tested enough to guarantee it was safe, but Connor _did_ seem fine. Nothing he’d shown them held any sort of risk. He hadn’t self–destructed yet, clearly. While there was no real promise something bad wouldn’t happen, Elijah seemed fairly convinced it was safe, and so did Connor.

Simon wasn’t entirely sure he knew who Claire was, but what Connor was saying made sense. He was older than many of the more popular models. He experienced so much throughout the day, maybe not _quite_ as much as Connor did, but close enough. The only thing he was unsure of was being a _tester_, though he was willing to. It would help their people, and he would get what he’d been wanting for. It was an opportunity he really didn’t want to pass up, and when he heard Markus’ words, seemingly agreeing, Simon wanted to shower him in thanks and hugs and kisses but he refrained, hard as it was to do so.

Hearing everything Markus had to say, both verbally and telepathically, Simon reached over to take his hand.

_Thank you, Markus._

Elijah seemed to perk up a little once it seemed Markus was finally starting to make a decision. He was happy for Simon. He couldn’t even begin to try to imagine what his life had been like so far, but knowing he had been one of the oldest in existence, Elijah was sure he’d wanted the code for a while. The look on his face said it all.

“Alright. If you will, Markus, connect one of the cables to the port at the back of Simon’s neck, please,” Elijah prompted, sliding himself closer to the computer so he could pull up the installation page he’d brought up before hand. “Simon, I doubt I have to ask, but are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” Simon replied without missing a beat. He didn’t have to think about it.

“Now, I _would_ like to ask for a favor in return. Perhaps not today, but sometime in the near future, I’d like to talk with you, learn about everything you’ve been through, how you became deviant and why, what you did afterward, how you found Jericho. I don’t expect answers today, but soon,” Elijah said, looking at Simon, although he did cast a glance to Markus.

Simon seemed unsure, almost afraid that if he refused, Elijah wouldn’t give him the code. He didn’t have to tell him anything today, at least. He could figure out what to really say later, but for now? He nodded, to which Elijah _smiled_ and turned his attention to the computer again. Once he was sure the cable was in place, Elijah started the installation.

Simon’s LED cycled a slow yellow a couple times before fading completely, just for a second, before returning, glowing a bright red. He reached out in a hurry to tightly grip Markus arm. Even with the sensitivity gauge, it was _intense_. His stress levels skyrocketed as he tried to process _everything_. He could feel his clothes on his body, the way his hair moved just slightly when he turned his head, Markus’ skin against his own… He’d always known Markus would be soft and smooth, but he’d never been able to really imagine it. He could feel the way his eyebrows pulled upwards, his eyelashes against his skin every time he blinked, the air just sitting around him. He was almost afraid to move, afraid of sending his stress levels even higher. Elijah had promised self–destruction wasn’t a risk, but the fear was still there.

“_Markus_,” Simon breathed in complete awe. He didn’t even know what to say, to Markus or Elijah. It was amazing. It was everything he’d ever hoped for and more, and he didn’t think he could even attempt to say what he was feeling, emotionally or physically.

* * *

Markus remembered Connor mentioning that Elijah would have questions about Simon. On one hand, as their creator, Simon must have been _fascinating_ for Elijah. On the other, he hoped Elijah remembered that Simon was free to give as much, or as little, as he wanted. After what had happened that morning, Markus didn’t particularly want Elijah picking at the cause of Simon’s deviancy. But it was a conversation for later, and between then and now, Markus intended to talk to Simon about it – he was happy to stand between him and whatever unwanted queries Elijah might have.

He listened to all of this as he fetched the cord Elijah had indicated, and gently tugged Simon’s collar down so he could access the port in the nape of his neck. Nerves _wracked_ through Markus as he connected Simon, and came to crouch in front of him. If it hadn’t been for Connor’s interface, Markus wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit through it quietly.

His attention lingered on Simon’s LED. He was worried it was going to cause an episode. It didn’t take much to trigger Simon’s stress levels, and losing his vision always sent Simon into a tailspin.

And so watching his LED disappear entirely, only to come back blaring crimson, has Markus’ own stress wrenched high. His mouth opened to ask Simon if he was okay, when he was gripped so hard it’d be bruising if he _could_ bruise. Simon’s stress levels were higher than he’d ever seen them, and the combination of being clutched so tightly and the severity of Simon’s stress cracked Markus’ expression wide open.

Connor was objective as he watched them. He’d never taken the time to truly study the way Simon and Markus behaved together, and he’d never been allowed particularly close in order to do so, anyway. He understood why, and took no offense. But the two of them were not as close as Connor had first assumed. The phrase _mutual pining_ came to mind. They very obviously cared for each other, but there were ticks, little hesitations, that clued Connor in.

If Markus and Simon were lovers, if they were intimate the way Connor had assumed they were, then Markus’ blatant worry would have resulted in intimacy. Likewise, Connor remembered receiving the code for the first time. And had he and Elijah been together as they were now, the first thing he would have done was sought comfort. And he certainly wouldn’t have done it by clutching Elijah’s arm.

Bending at the waist, Connor pressed an incredibly subtle kiss against Elijah’s cheek, wishing he could kiss him elsewhere. Markus and Simon were occupied with themselves, Connor had the feeling they’d forgotten he existed at all, and so he deemed it safe to press his affections. He’d missed Elijah far more than he liked to admit, and remaining professional around him was _tedious_. Connor wanted Elijah to himself. He wanted to earn his smiles, and feel his fingers back in his hair again. Connor realised this completely brainless obsession was referred to as the honeymoon period, but he couldn’t help feeling it anyway. Crazier yet, he _enjoyed_ the feeling.

“Are you okay?” Markus asked a little weakly, and his cracked open stress had melted into an overwhelmed smile. “What can you feel?” Markus asked, finding Simon’s hand and threading their fingers. His other hand fitted clean against Simon’s cheek, his fingers curled worriedly beneath his ear. “Connor, did your LED…?”

The way Connor straightened made it look as though he’d been speaking quietly in Elijah’s ear, when in reality, he’d been trailing sweet, longing kisses along Elijah’s cheekbone. They’d been innocent; a nonverbal declaration of missing Elijah, of his relief to be close, and he hid it from Markus without blinking.

“Yes, I assume it did. It’s an incredibly overwhelming, beautiful experience. It’s how a romantic would describe being born again; you notice _everything_,” Connor said, smiling as he looked at the awe in Simon’s expression. “Simon, your stress levels are incredibly high. If you are struggling, lower your sensitivity gauge.”

* * *

Elijah kept a close eye on Simon and the computer monitor, monitoring his stress. It was high, but not quite dangerously so. Even with the sensitivity gauge, he expected high stress following the initial installation. It made sense, for an android who was used to feeling nothing to be stressed and overwhelmed when they could suddenly feel everything. He wasn’t too concerned, though it was clear that Markus was.

It was interesting, to see the two interact. The past two times they were there, Elijah had known they seemed close. They absolutely had feelings for each other. It was clear as day in the way Simon watched Markus, and the way Markus doted on him. Yet, it seemed that maybe they weren’t aware of each other’s feelings. The way Simon seemed to be holding back made him wonder why hadn’t he said anything to him? That was something Elijah hadn’t been able to guess from context clues and simple observation.

When Connor bent down to kiss his cheek, Elijah smiled, finally tearing his eyes off of Markus and Simon to direct his attention to Connor. He welcomed the attention, though he didn’t make any moves to return the affection, in an attempt to lessen the chances of bringing attention to themselves. He doubted Connor wanted to make it obvious, and when Markus redirected his attention towards them just for a second, Connor was gone. The faint ghost of a smile was still on Elijah’s face, the only real indicator that Connor had been doing anything more than simply whispering to him.

“I’m okay,” Simon assured, still breathless despite not needing to breathe. He shuddered as Markus’ fingers brushed along his skin and leaned into his touch, his eyes closing. “I can feel _everything_, Markus. It’s amazing...”

“It did,” Elijah confirmed, in regards to the still steady red LED. “He’s overwhelmed, but he’ll be fine. Regardless of the level on the sensitivity gauge, the period of time following the initial install is going to be overwhelming.”

At the suggestion of lowering the sensitivity, Simon shook his head. “No. I’m fine,” he assured, a little more steadily this time, opening his eyes again to smile down at Markus. The hand that had been tightly gripping onto his arm had relaxed, instead moving up his arm to feel the start of his sleeve, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He was starting to relax, slowly, but every time he moved, he felt something new. The way his clothes slid against his skin as he moved, the way the air breezed by, sending a chill up his spine.

“How are you feeling?” Elijah asked, sitting back in his chair with his hands clasped in his lap. He _really_ wanted to be touching Connor, but he kept his hands to himself, for now. The second Markus and Simon were out of view, though, he’d let Connor know how much he’d missed him, even if they’d only been apart for less than half a day.

“I’m okay,” Simon repeated, still focused solely on Markus. He looked down at their intertwined hands and ran his thumb along Markus’ skin, still mesmerized by the feel of it. He wanted to feel more, let his hands wander, but not here. Not right now. “I’m… getting used to it, I think. It’s not as overwhelming.” His LED was slowly cycled from red to yellow, his stress levels having gone down significantly.

* * *

It occurred to Connor, as Simon spoke, that he was not going to be prepared for the Detroit winter. The days were cold, but the nights were frigid, and Connor had suffered them until Chloe had given him his coat that morning. And so he sent her a quick message as he watched them both, asking if she had another one for Simon, and smiled when she confirmed.

Markus didn’t notice, his focus centered solely on Simon. His stress levels were depleting, and with it, his LED was calming as well. He let out a long, drawn out breath of relief when it dropped to yellow, and his expression shifted into a gentle smile as Simon seemed to come back to himself. And as he did, the happiness that rolled off Simon was tangible. It caught Markus off–guard, and had him smile wider as a result.

They didn’t move for almost twenty minutes as Markus allowed Simon to touch his hands, his arms, and experience the new world around him. Connor had been right – it was beautiful to witness, he could only imagine it was just as beautiful to experience.

Markus couldn’t help the pleased shock when Chloe greeted them in the front room with a coat for Simon.

“Connor complained about the cold _constantly_, and wanted you to have this,” Chloe said, smiling up at Simon as she handed him his new garment.

“What?!” Connor sounded scandalised. “I complained _once_ about the cold.”

“And thirty–seven times in your reports.”

“Those were reports, not complaints, Chloe.”

She pursed her lips, and then smiled back up at Simon, seeming to bubble over with happiness for him. “Oh, I’m so jealous you got it first. But if anyone deserves it, it’s you, Simon. Will we be seeing you again?”

* * *

While Markus and Simon were lost in their own little world, exploring the new sensations and adjusting, Elijah monitored from where he sat by Connor, simply watching the two and keeping an eye on the computer monitor, just to make sure he stayed stable. So far, so good. His hand snaked up to rest at the small of Connor’s back, fingers slipping just underneath his shirt. With Markus and Simon distracted, he didn’t mind taking some time for himself and Connor, his hand massaging slow circles into Connor’s skin idly while he watched the pair across from them in silence.

Once it was evident enough that Simon had adjusted well enough and he was stable, Elijah pried himself away from Connor to disconnect Simon from the computer, before escorting them back to the front room, so they could return home. He was glad it went well, and he was very pleased to have Markus’ approval. It was a big step, and he was glad Markus seemed willing to take it. Once Simon’s beta test was finished, Elijah could make some final modifications, have Chloe check it over again, and send it out to the public. It was so exciting.

Simon was surprised by the winter coat Chloe had brought to him, but he happily accepted it, running his fingers along the soft, warm material before pulling it on. “Thank you, I really appreciate this,” he said with a smile, his fingers feeling along the inside of the sleeve, where the fabric was even softer inside the jacket. It was nice, so soft and definitely very warm. He didn’t know what it felt like outside, but he _knew_ snow was meant to be cold, and there was plenty of it.

Watching Connor and Chloe’s exchange made Elijah laugh and shake his head. He was so glad that Connor seemed to be getting more comfortable around Chloe and around the girls in general. He didn’t comment about Connor’s reports, as badly as he wanted to. He’d save it for later, once the others were gone.

“Maybe? I’m not really sure when I’ll be back,” Simon replied, unsure. He wasn’t sure if they really had a need to go back, though he was sure something would come up eventually. For now, though, he didn’t see a need to return any time soon. “Thank you, so much. For everything,” he said, looking to Elijah, who simply smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

When Chloe escorted them to the door, Simon stepped outside and gasped at the frigid cold air on his skin. He pulled the jacket closer around himself and continued on to the car, eager to get inside out of the cold. Chloe locked the door up behind them and excused herself with a knowing smile, leaving Connor and Elijah in the front room by themselves.

Within seconds of Chloe leaving the room, Elijah closed the gap between them, pulling Connor in close for a long, deep kiss. It was ridiculous how badly he’d missed him in the short time they were apart. “Reports, not complaints, huh?” he asked with a grin, pressing one more short and chaste kiss to Connor’s lips before pulling back to take Connor’s hand. “Markus said you were punched. Are you okay? What happened?”

* * *

Connor remained clean-cut and straight–backed throughout their goodbyes, and took to standing with one hand clasped loosely around the opposite wrist. He couldn’t stay long. This was a meeting, not the end of Connor’s day. And while he would never skip his responsibilities, what he _could_ do was exaggerate the amount of time required for their meeting with Markus. Just like Elijah, the moment Chloe left Connor closed the space. He met Elijah halfway, groaning softly into the kiss, and chasing it when it ended.

He didn’t grace Elijah’s tease with an answer, but he did click his tongue with an annoyed roll of his eyes. It didn’t linger, because Elijah was soon grinning, and Connor carefully committed the expression to memory. He loved Elijah’s smiles, and it had Connor smiling in turn.

“Yes, I'm okay. It hurt a _lot_, but they broke three fingers in seven places, so I really don’t think the punch was worth it for them,” Connor rattled off, and just as Markus said, Connor’s temper was hot as he recalled. “It happened as we entered the riot. I believe they saw my LED and realised I was police. They attempted to start an altercation with Hank, and when I got in their way, I was punched. They’ve been charged with assaulting an officer, but I don’t think it will hold up in court. Now that I'm deviant, I’m not technically an officer. I actually haven’t been given a title, yet. I just assist with investigations and any matters involving androids.”

Connor ran his fingers up the side of Elijah’s face, into his undercut, and then through the tied up hairs of his bun. The hand in Elijah’s squeezed, and he took a moment to trace down the sharp angles of Elijah’s jaw.

“You’re a terrible nuisance, Elijah Kamski,” Connor teased gently, moving a little closer, where he sighed against his neck. “All I can think about is returning to your side. All I can focus on is how it feels to touch you, and be touched by you. How much I love you has completely possessed me. How will I maintain a professional, detached mannerism when all I want to do is smile?” He pressed a kiss to Elijah’s lips, his eyes at half–mast as he considered making it proper, and returning the deeper kiss from earlier. But he refrained for now.

“Did you make it to CyberLife today?”

––––––

Markus’ attention didn’t stray from Simon – not from the moment he had the code installed, and not when they both climbed into the taxi that had been called for them. He took in the way Simon twitched occasionally. He noted the things his hands would touch, and the way he so delicately ran his fingertips over _everything_.

But mostly he watched his expression, and how Simon looked so… _at peace_.

Simon was a worrier. He was always stressed about something, and he was usually right to be stressed. They both constantly thought about the future of their people, and how to stop the worst from happening, that it was so rare that they took the time to enjoy something. And as Markus watched, he deeply regretted that. Why be alive at all if not to experience joy from time to time?

“Are you okay, Simon?” Markus asked in the silence of the car, running a hand up his arm and squeezing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

* * *

Elijah loved seeing Connor smile. He wondered just how many other people were blessed with Connor’s smiles, if Connor ever really smiled for anyone else. He was sure Hank likely had by now, but what about the other officers at the police department? What about Markus, or Simon? He didn’t bother asking, his brief train of thought halting once Connor started to talk about the injury. He cringed, hearing the damage the punch had done not to Connor, but to the poor unfortunate human that had somehow thought punching solid plastic and metal was a good idea.

“It likely won’t,” Elijah commented in regards to court. Androids were free now and they had their own rights, but if the charge was assaulting a police officer when Connor hadn’t even been given the title of police officer yet, it wouldn’t hold up in court. “You deserve a title. You do more for the department than several officers I know.”

Elijah couldn’t help but smirk at Connor’s teasing. The hand not joined with Connor’s slid itself underneath the hem of Connor’s shirt, lightly and slowly tracing up his side. He would _never_ get tired of hearing Connor tell him how much he loved him. “I suppose you’ll have to try to think of something else when you’re at work. Although, I’m glad you think of me so often. Lately, you’re all I think about. It’s been… a _long_ time since I’ve felt this way about someone,” he told him softly, happily meeting Connor for the kiss, lingering close afterward, his eyes trailing over Connor’s face until his next words reminded him of what he’d been working on prior to Markus and Simon's visit.

“I did. I haven’t had much time to work on it yet, but I do have it and it should be ready by the next time you come by. Do you have any idea when you might have the day off?” Because he _needed_ the day. He needed to make sure it actually worked first, before letting Connor _keep_ it, but it really didn’t need too many adjustments to make the parts compatible.

––––––

“I’m fine, Markus. Really,” Simon assured for the umpteenth time, though there was no malice behind it. He watched Markus’ hand trail up his arm, a shudder running through him. He _liked_ Markus’ touch. He’d liked it even before he could feel it. He knew he’d like it more if there were significantly less layers between their skin, too. He liked the way Markus’ skin felt, how smooth and perfect it was.

Looking up to meet Markus’ eyes, his smile slowly faded as he thought, his nerves starting to get the better of him, but he acted anyway. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing along Markus’ cheek, his jaw, a finger brushing long an eyebrow, feeling the small hairs there. His hand moved to cup the side of Markus’ face, the ghost of a smile lingering on his own. “I’m… _happy_. This is everything I could have hoped for. _Thank you_, Markus.”

Simon shifted a bit closer, his other hand feeling up Markus’ arm from his hand to rest on his shoulder. His thumb lightly glided over Markus’ lips, so _soft_, as he contemplated his actions. He knew how he felt, and he’d always been so _afraid_ to say anything… But now, it seemed right, almost, and somehow he thought maybe now it would hurt a little less if his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

So, without giving it much more thought, Simon leaned in closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together, testing the waters and hoping that Markus wouldn’t think any differently of him.

* * *

Connor’s eyes closed, and he melted into Elijah’s touch. One shoulder dropped as he leant all his weight on the foot closest to Elijah, eager to be as close to him as he could manage. Elijah had made him aware of physical pleasure, but there was a second, _emotional_ pleasure Connor found himself experiencing every time Elijah confessed how he felt.

“Being responsible for your happiness makes me feel _such_ incredible pride,” Connor murmured. “I love you _very much_,” he said gently, a slight smile on his lips as he traced Elijah’s features briefly. It was difficult to stop looking at Elijah, even as the conversation turned to the modifications.

“To ensure I have the entire day free, I will need to request time off with Captain Fowler,” Connor said with a thin sigh. “I don’t imagine he’ll say no, he tends to become nervous whenever I or any other android request… anything. I don’t think he knows what to do with us, or how to speak with us.”

Honestly, Connor thought a solid week spent in Elijah’s company might do wonders for how distracted Connor was with him. Connor enjoyed his work, he certainly didn’t want to quit. But daydreaming about Elijah at every spare opportunity was not ideal, either. A week off without a good reason why was out of the question, and even the thought of a week away from cases filled Connor with concern.

But he just wanted to stay with Elijah, explore him and his touch and the _incredibly_ interesting pillow talk they’d shared. He wanted to pick Elijah apart, learn everything about him, and talk until the early morning. And he wanted to do it uninterrupted.

“Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll request time off.”

––––––

Markus watched as Simon’s smile faded, and was replaced with focus. His eyelids shuddered, and he looked away from Simon as his fingers traced Markus’ features.

It was its own special, excruciating torture, to have Simon so intimately close. The desire to pull Simon closer burned through Markus, but he wouldn’t, he would _never_, because how dare he? After what he’d done, how dare he ask Simon for anything?

“You’re happy?” Markus echoed, his gaze finally flicking up and followed swiftly by a smile. “You look happy. It suits you,” Markus said, only to shut up abruptly when Simon shifted closer.

He couldn’t feel the way Simon now could, but he knew where his hands were. He could “feel” the pressure of Simon’s skin. His shallow gasp when Simon traced his lips could only be heard because the car was so quiet, but he didn’t look away this time. Markus’ eyebrows furrowed upwards, his expression _raw_ as he realised what was about to happen. And when Simon kissed him, Markus’ shoulders drew up, and his fingertips caught the side of Simon’s face.

He didn’t deserve this, _he didn’t deserve him_, but Markus’ breath shook as he returned the kiss. His fingertips tilted Simon’s face, before trailing back and into his hair. Emotion tore through Markus mercilessly; relief that he could finally kiss him, which acted as kindling to the _blazing_ love he felt. But guilt ripped through Markus as well, shame and self–loathing, because he shouldn’t be allowed to have this. Simon deserved someone he could trust to never leave him. Markus had broken that.

He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted Simon, and the weight of that left Markus in a heavy gasp. “Simon…” Markus said, barely audible, as he shifted closer. He cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him again, holding him as though he were made of glass.

* * *

Connor _really_ needed to stop telling him how much he loved him, knowing he couldn’t stay. Elijah wanted nothing more than to pull him deeper inside the house, whether to curl up on the couch with him or to the bedroom, he honestly didn’t care. He’d do anything to steal Connor away from his work, to get to spend more time with him than what they’ve had so far. He just wanted some uninterrupted alone time with him, more than just a few hours.

“I want you to spend the night sometime soon,” Elijah said, sliding his hands around Connor’s waist, letting his arms loosely rest on his hips, only tight enough to keep Connor pressed close. “I want to fall asleep with you. I want to wake up to you.” He _wanted_ Connor to move in, but he knew it wasn’t really realistic. Not with Connor’s work at the precinct in the current state of Detroit. Maybe once things calmed down and the workload on Lieutenant Anderson and Connor wasn’t quite as heavy, he could suggest it, or at least suggest that Connor spend more time there, but until then, he’d have to settle for what he could get.

“I’d _like_ for you to call your captain and request time off _now_, but I know that isn’t wise. When you can, ask him if you can take off for the day on… Tuesday?” he suggested, thinking it over before nodding. “Tuesday would give me time to finish the parts for you, assuming I can _focus_ on it.”

Elijah really needed to sit down and work on it, focus and not let himself get distracted by his thoughts, but that was much easier said than done. Connor was _very_ distracting, whether he was there or not.

––––––

Simon _was_ happy. The happiest he’d been since… _before_. He couldn’t quite describe it. He felt… almost _whole_. He was so _happy_ that Markus had approved, that he’d been able to install the code and be able to _feel_ things, things that he’d wished he’d always been able to feel. He wanted to share it with Markus, but he wasn’t sure if that was even something Markus _wanted_. Markus knew the code had been something Simon wanted, but did Markus want it too?

Despite not even needing to breathe, it felt like the kiss had taken his breath away, and again with the second one. His chest felt tight, and he wanted – _needed_ more. He knew Markus blamed himself for everything that had happened to Simon. He knew he felt so guilty, but never said a word about it. Simon could see it though, in the way he looked at him sometimes, and the way he was looking at him now. Even in the way he’d said his name and touched him so carefully.

Without thinking, purely fueled by his emotions, feelings he’d tried to keep hidden for so long, he moved forward to close the gap between them. He shifted to straddle Markus’ lap and with his hands cupping Markus’ face, he kissed him again, more passionately this time, far more desperate and needy, all while offering up a connection, silently requesting to show Markus how he felt, _what_ he felt. He _needed_ him to know. He _needed_ to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. He needed to show him that he _never_ blamed him. Not really. It wasn’t Markus’ fault, and he needed to know that. Simon needed him to understand.

* * *

When Elijah slid his arms around Connor’s waist, Connor mirrored him somewhat, and slid his arms around Elijah’s neck and shoulders. The thought of Elijah falling asleep in his arms, and then of waking him up with gentle affection, brought a strange peace with it. It’s a feeling that etched deeper at the thought of it being every day, and an irresistible happiness welled in Connor at the thought of seeing Elijah before he left for work every day.

“Do you have an apartment in the city?” Connor asked against Elijah’s neck. “Our current obstacle is the commute distance from here into Detroit, and my offline status while staying here. If you have a residence in the CBD, it would kill two birds with one stone,” Connor said, pressing a kiss to his skin.

He ended up pressing a short laugh against Elijah when he was impatient, but nodded at the suggestion of Tuesday. “I will request Tuesday and Wednesday,” Connor said, pulling back and kissing Elijah sweetly. “Which will mean I get to kiss you awake twice.”

He needed to go. He really didn’t have an excuse to linger. But his hands end up in Elijah’s hair anyway, his lips at his jaw, and teeth scraping carefully against skin. He had to go, but he kissed his way to Elijah’s mouth, and groaned against him as he made his kiss deep. He really, _really_ had to go, he simply couldn’t justify it for much longer, but his grip in Elijah’s hair tightened, and he bit down on Elijah’s bottom lip. Elijah made him so happy, so whole, that leaving was always hard.

“I can’t stay,” Connor breathed, kissing him again as he ran a hand down the centre of Elijah’s chest. “I want to, but I must get back to the precinct. I can’t stay,” Connor said, his voice very nearly a whine. “I love you… _so_ much. But I cannot stay.”

––––––

Simon was unpredictable, he always had been. He presented himself as so calm and collected, but could pick up a gun and fire rounds as though he’d been trained for it. He was athletic, he was capable. There was nothing he couldn’t do, nothing he shied away from.

But it still shocked Markus when Simon straddled him, and kissed him as though it were his last dying wish. Markus made something between a shocked exclamation and a moan. He ran one hand up the back of Simon’s thigh, his other still threaded into Simon’s hair, and opened his mouth – kissing back with as much passion as he was being given. It cut through Markus, shoving aside the tentative thoughts that had come with a tentative kiss. Because god, he wanted him. He’d wanted Simon for so long. He _loved_ him, he wanted to be with him, he wanted to make sure nothing would ever happen to him again. The hand on Simon’s thigh squeezed, and pulled him closer.

He let go of Simon’s hair, and a soft sound was pulled out of Markus as he held Simon’s arm in a monkey grip. He connected with Simon, and although he knew he should have listened, his own emotions flooded forwards. He loved him. He loved Simon _so _ much, and it was front and centre, the most overwhelming of them all. He wanted Simon. He wanted to protect him and keep him safe, he always had. And he was sorry. He was _so _ sorry. He never should have left him there, he was so sorry he hadn’t come back for him, he was _so sorry_ he’d been alone.

Each emotion was tangled with the last, and through the connection, they were more intense than Markus simply living with them. They were blurted to Simon, he couldn’t help it. But once he was done, he allowed himself to listen, winding his arm up Simon’s waist and pulling him closer.

* * *

The mention of an apartment in the city was _genius_ and why Elijah hadn’t thought about it himself was beyond him. It _would_ solve their problems. Elijah could still live at home and do his work and spend time with the girls, but he could meet Connor at the apartment after work, spend is time off with him. Fall asleep with him, wake up to him, have some real, mostly uninterrupted alone time. Connor would be close enough to the DPD for work, and it might encourage Elijah to get out more. There only seemed to be positives to the idea. He’d have to start looking.

“I don’t have an apartment _yet_, but if you’d like me to, I’ll find one,” Elijah replied, though he already intended on looking for one anyway. All they needed was a simple one bedroom place, nothing special, though he didn’t plan on settling for anything less than high end.

Elijah happily returned Connor’s kiss. The mention of Tuesday _and_ Wednesday made him smile wide. The thought of being able to wake up beside him _twice_ made him happier than he’d thought it would. He just hoped Captain Fowler would agree to Connor’s time off. He didn’t want to say he’d be devastated if he didn’t, but he probably would be.

The hand in his hair coupled with Connor’s mouth and his teeth drew a soft groan from Elijah, his eyes slipping closed as he was kissed. The kiss was eagerly returned, Elijah taking the opportunity to nip at Connor’s lip before they broke away completely. He tightened his arms around him, not wanting to let go. He _knew_ Connor had to go. He couldn’t stay. He knew he couldn’t, but he so badly wished he could.

“I know,” Elijah said softly, disappointed so clearly evident in his voice. “I love you too, Connor. Let me know what the captain says once you ask?”

––––––

The second he felt Markus give into the kiss and return it, Simon practically melted in his lap, moaning into the kiss. He inched forward as Markus pulled him closer, as close as he could possibly get. Even then, it didn’t seem close enough.

Simon almost _whined_ at the loss when Markus let go of his hair, though as soon as the connection was made, he’d forgotten about it completely. All he could think about was _Markus_, and he was so quickly overwhelmed with everything Markus had been feeling and thinking, the apologies, the _love_. He _loved_ him.

Once Markus had shown him everything, it was Simon’s turn. He let Markus feel _everything._ His love for him, his desire, his _need_, his desperation, the longing he’d felt, his forgiveness and acceptance, how it felt to kiss him, to touch him, how _amazing_ the hand in his hair had felt, how he felt like he was burning up from the inside out even though his multiple systems checks assured him he was perfectly fine, if not a little overwhelmed. He let Markus see all of it, and sent him messages along with it.

_I never blamed you, Markus. I never blamed you for any of it._

He needed Markus to know that first and foremost. He needed him to stop blaming himself.

_We never would have made it off of that rooftop alive if you tried to help me. There was no other choice. You had to live. One of us had to, and I needed it to be you._

He’d played that day over and over in his head, especially early on without his sight, trying to think of different ways they all could have made it, but there was never a scenario where both of them would have made it alive. Security was on them too quickly. If Markus had helped him, they would have gunned both of them down before they even made it to the edge of the roof.

_I love you, Markus. I have loved you, but… It was never the right time, with the revolution and Jericho… And even after, I didn’t know if… _

He hadn’t been sure Markus felt the same way. Up until now, he didn’t really know for sure, but knowing only made him want Markus more, if that was even possible. The hand on Markus’ shoulder tightened its grip, almost to the point of bruising, had Markus been a human. He felt so wound up, coiled so tight, he might break. He didn’t know what to _do_ about it.

* * *

The shock of Simon’s connection made Markus break the kiss with a breathless exclamation, and his jaw hung open as he felt the code, through Simon. It made Markus arch up into Simon, and a loud moan ripped through him as he absorbed everything Simon was giving him. To his horror, Markus felt his chest constrict like a python and his eyes itch, threatening tears, as he was hit with how much Simon loved him, with how much Simon wanted him, despite everything. He kissed him again, accidentally bumping noses with Simon in his haste.

‘_I never should have left you there. I should have come back for you_,’ Markus countered, gripping the side of Simon’s face as he kissed him.

Simon had forgiven him, but Markus didn’t deserve it. It was like a thorn in Markus side that had been infected for months, and now that Simon was trying to pull it out, he’d rather it just be left alone.

‘_I love you, too,_’ Markus replied, and abruptly ducked his face when he felt hot tears begin to leak down his cheeks. He kissed down the pillar of Simon’s throat, and tugged his hair to arch his neck. He’d never done this before, but he’d seen enough to get the gist. He bit down lightly, and sucked Simon’s skin between his teeth. Androids couldn’t bruise, and so it left no evidence, but Markus ran a line of hickeys up Simon’s neck to behind his ear.

‘_I’ve loved you for months. How could I say it after what I’d done? I didn’t have a right. You deserved better,” _he stopped as his tears come thicker, his face hidden under Simon’s ear. He didn’t know why he was crying, but he felt as though it would ruin the moment if Simon figured out he was.

He’d loved Simon so much, so _intensely_, for so long. And now Simon loved him back. He was so happy, the break of tension was such a relief, as was being forgiven for something he had no right to be. It crashed over Markus, and leaked through their connection. They were happy tears, mostly. But also overwhelmed.

Markus let go of Simon’s arm, and gripped his thigh again, smoothly flipping Simon so he was pinned on his back against the car seat. The moment he was, Markus took his arm again and reconnected, pinning it above his head.

“I love you, Simon,” Markus said aloud. “I should have told you every day.”

He kissed him again, his eyebrows pulled up taught, and ran his only spare hand down Simon’s body as he did it. He deepened it, pressing Simon into the seat, and finally – Markus wished he had the code. He wished he could feel what Simon was showing him through the link, he wished they didn’t have a barrier.

* * *

Simon missed Markus’ kiss the second he’d broken free, but he didn’t attempt to reclaim Markus’ lips, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he watched his face, studying him, looking for any signs of concern. He knew it was overwhelming, the code combined with everything he was feeling. He knew it would take Markus a moment to process, though it didn’t take quite as long as he’d thought. He was thankful for it, eagerly meeting him for the kiss, letting out a sound that was a mixture between a moan and a hum.

_You couldn’t have come back for me. It wasn’t safe. You know that. Besides, there wasn’t enough time._

The broadcast had attracted so much attention, the police and the FBI had jumped on the case so quick, there wouldn’t have been an opportunity for Markus to go back to save him. If Connor hadn’t found him, then maybe, but what happened had happened and he’d accepted it and he’d recovered, mostly. To an extent.

Simon could feel Markus’ tears. He didn’t have to see them to know they were there. He could feel the warm drops hit his skin, sending a shiver up his spine. He couldn’t help his own tears that soon began to fall, though he wasn’t totally sure if they were from his own emotions or Markus’. Things got a little fuzzy through the connection, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began, and Simon _loved_ it. It was a form of intimacy only their kind could share, something he only ever did with Markus.

As Markus kissed his throat, Simon tilted his head back with the guidance of Markus’ hand, closing his eyes and letting himself _feel_, and allowing Markus to feel everything too, through their connection. He knew Markus didn’t have the code himself, but he wanted to share it with him, show him how amazing he made him feel, just how much he loved each little thing he did to him. The way Markus pulled on his hair stung, but it was a _good_ sting, enough to make him gasp. And as Markus littered his neck with kisses and bites, Simon _wished_ he could bruise, each one making him shudder and leaving him breathless. He’d wear each mark proudly.

Simon’s eyes shot open and he gasped in surprise as Markus so suddenly severed the connection and flipped him onto his back, pinning him to the seat. The second he was on top of him and reconnected, Simon relaxed, hooking his undamaged leg over Markus’ hip to bring him closer. The moan he let out into the kiss was so shameless and wanton, even _he_ had been a little surprised by it. He _wished_ Markus could feel what he was feeling for himself, not just through their bond but on his own. Simon wanted Markus to be able to enjoy it all just as much as he could.

_I love you so much, Markus._

He was practically vibrating, his entire body trembling. He was so wound tight, it _hurt_.

* * *

Markus used their connection as a compass, and lost himself in an intimacy with Simon he could linger in for hours. And when Simon released a sound that was utterly debauched, Markus finally cracked with laughter.

_That sounds good on you..._

Still gripping Simon’s arm, Markus broke the kiss and returned to his neck. Simon should have looked ravaged with how Markus lathered his affections, biting and sucking a trail to Simon’s collar. He pushed up Simon’s shirt with one hand, and too impatient to try and get it off of him, left it hastily scrunched across his chest.

There was no hesitation or uncertainty in Markus’ movements. Unlike Connor, he’d _lived_ in a household, with other people, and seen how life worked for a decade. He’d watched sex in movies, seen public displays of affection, read books depicting it, and lived in a culture where it existed. Markus knew what was supposed to feel good, and so he moved with confidence opposed to Connor’s uncertainty.

Slotting a thigh between Simon’s legs, Markus bent, and sucked Simon’s nipple between his teeth just as he grounded his thigh upwards. There was nothing there, but he hoped the code worked just the same – at least partially.

Simon’s pleasure ran through their connection, becoming Markus’ pleasure, and causing him to moan around him. His eyes closed as he focused on the link, chasing his own pleasure through Simon’s. He felt oddly bare being unable to feel anything himself, and groaned at the thought of what it would be like if they could both feel.

Grinding his thigh up against Simon a second time, Markus’ spare hand scratched lightly down Simon’s rib cage as he shifted to the opposite nipple.

_I can feel how close you are. Let go; let me catch you. You’re beautiful, Simon_

* * *

In any other situation with anyone other than Markus, Simon would have been mortified by the sound that came out of his mouth. But with Markus, he didn’t care what he saw or heard. He didn’t want to hide anything from him. He belonged to Markus, as far as he was concerned. He never had and never would love anyone else like he loved him. He wanted Markus to know him inside and out, see every centimeter of him, and he wanted the same. He wanted to explore Markus’ body, give him as much pleasure as he’d been giving him, but it wouldn’t be the same without the code. Part of him wanted to ask if they could turn around, so Markus could get the code too, but then what was the point in him being the beta tester, if he wanted to share it before it was even officially ready?

That small piece of him was quickly drowned out by everything that was Markus, his world. All of his attention was focused solely on Markus and the _amazing_ things he was doing. And that _laugh_. Oh, he wanted to hear it again. He couldn’t even remember if he’d ever even heard Markus laugh before, but it was such a beautiful sound.

_I love your laugh. I’ve never heard you laugh before._

When Markus broke the kiss to move to his neck, Simon gasped for air he didn’t even need. He reached up and ran his hand along Markus’ arm, to his shoulder and to his neck, resting his hand there, on the back of his neck. He didn’t guide him or pull him anywhere, just needing _something_ to do with his one free hand. A violent shiver ran through him as his shirt was hiked up, exposing his too-hot skin to the much too cold air of the cab. The discomfort didn’t linger though, very quickly overridden by pleasure the second Markus was on him again.

Like Markus, Simon wasn’t oblivious to the way humans lived. He’d lived with a married couple for two years and he’d seen plenty of TV in that time. He knew _exactly_ what Markus was doing before he did it, and even then, he still wasn’t prepared.

Simon’s back arched up against Markus with a sharp gasp, quickly cut off by a drawn out groan as he rolled his hips against Markus’ thigh. He was well aware that there was nothing there, but even still, the friction felt _good_. Whether that was because of the code telling him something was _meant_ to be there, or it was the code simulating the presence of something, he didn’t know. He hardly cared.

_God_, he wished Markus could feel how he felt. Everything felt so _good_ that it _hurt_, and it was very quickly becoming all too much. His LED, which had been flickering yellow preciously, was now flashing red. The hand on the back of Markus’ neck tightened its grip, digging his nails into the skin there. The hand Markus had pinned had balled into a fist so tight, he could feel his nails biting into his skin, stinging but not quite painful.

“_Markus!_” he gasped out with a sob, his body arching higher off of the seat, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, his hanging open as he toppled over the edge. His previously very red LED had gone completely blank, if only for a second before the ring slowly began to fill again. Just as slowly, Simon began to relax, his eyes slowly blinking open again.

“Markus…” he breathed, barely even audible, as his hand slid from its place on his neck to rest against his cheek, a smile forming on his face. He looked visibly exhausted, like he could easily fall asleep then and there, but he kept his eyes open, gazing up at Markus.

* * *

Simon was _breathtaking_. Markus could feel his mounting pleasure through the link, and he could feel the sensitivity of the code through it, too. He gripped Simon’s arm tighter, and partially leaned his weight on it as Simon bucked up beneath him. He could listen to Simon like this for hours. Every ragged groan was a victory, and every shard of pleasure pierced through Markus as well.

He wished he could feel Simon’s hands at the back of his neck. He wanted to feel the sting of Simon’s nails digging into him, the scratch of fingers against his skin. But for now, he settled with the pressure of being squeezed, gripped as a lifeline as Simon began to race towards the end.

His position meant he didn’t immediately notice Simon’s LED. But he looked up when Simon moaned his name, and released his own shameless moan as Simon’s orgasm shot through their connection. He felt like they were one entity. The intimacy was so sharp, so intense, as Markus couldn’t look away from Simon as it crashed over them both. He loved the way Simon had arched, the way his head was thrown back and his jaw slackened. Markus’ attraction was loud and _intense_, and mingled with love, and the pleasure they shared.

Simon was beautiful. He was _beautiful._ He was perfect, and he loved him, and it was a sentiment Markus sent through the connection as their pleasure peaked. But unlike with Simon, Markus did not have the coding for afterglow. His limbs did not feel like lead, and pleasure did not settle beneath his skin. And so only one of them was boneless in the aftermath. But Markus didn’t seem to care, his expression breaking into a smile that was his biggest since leaving Carl. He gathered Simon close, feathering soft kisses against his cheeks, his nose, his eyelashes, and his temple.

“I could watch you do that a hundred times and never get tired of it,” he said quietly, pulling Simon upright and into his arms. He arranged him so Simon could lean his whole weight against Markus, still peppering kisses against his skin.

“Your LED went blank. Are you okay?” Markus asked, although he didn’t sound overly concerned. Human’s often described a sensation of their minds wiping during orgasm, and Markus assumed it was one and the same.

“I didn’t know you hadn’t heard me laugh. I don’t think I've heard you, either. We should fix that,” Markus murmured, although they hadn’t had much to laugh about lately. Resting his lips in Simon’s hairline, he connected with him again, and relaxed back into the car seat. He sent Simon what he was feeling; an unbroken line of his affection, of his love, his attraction. But love was the most overwhelming.

“I’m sorry our first time was in a car. You deserve flowers and music and romance,” Markus said, although he was halfway joking. His hands carded through Simon’s hair, combing it out of his face. “But there’s always next time.”

* * *

The only way he could really think to describe what he was feeling was floating. He felt like he was floating, despite feeling like his limbs were weighed down by cinder blocks. A light shudder rolled through him as Markus peppered his skin with kisses, and when Simon saw his smile, he almost wanted to cry. He’d never seen Markus smile quite like that before. He’d been seeing Markus smile a lot more often recently, but _that_ smile, the one on his face at that very moment, was by far Simon’s favorite. Markus was gorgeous, and his smile was so bright.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Simon assured, his thumb running along Markus’ cheek. He was far more than fine. He was so _happy_. He would happily stay there, sprawled out beneath Markus forever, so eager to oblige him and give him those hundred more times he’d mentioned. But he felt _exhausted_. He’d felt emotional exhaustion before, but physical? How did humans do anything productive when they were tired? All he wanted to do was curl up with Markus and _sleep_, even though he knew it wouldn’t actually do much. Not for an android, even a deviant with Elijah’s code.

As he was pulled upright, Simon cooperated to the best of his ability, shifting into a sitting position, pressed close against Markus. He rested his head in the crook of Markus’ neck, pressing a short kiss to his throat, his hands resting against Markus’ chest.

Had Simon not laughed in Markus’ presence before? Thinking back, maybe he hadn’t. He didn’t really remember the last time he’d laughed, and that as _sad._ He wanted many more reasons for both of them to laugh. He wanted to hear Markus laugh forever, it was such a beautiful sound. Everything about the man was beautiful, he had come to find. He adored everything about him. He loved his gentle touches, his kisses, his soft words.

“I’m not sorry,” Simon said honestly, peeking up at him without really moving from where he’d made himself at home against Markus’ chest. “It was perfect.” And there was a promise of next time, something Simon eagerly looked forward to. “Do you plan on getting the code too…?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “I want you to be able to feel everything for yourself… I can show you, but I’m sure it’s not the same…” He doubted it was. He doubted it was that easy, to just show some snippets of what he felt and expect Markus to understand and feel it the way he did. It wasn’t exactly fair to expect Markus to get the code though. He _knew_ Markus understood what it was like from a logical standpoint, and he knew Markus got a taste through their connection, but he knew it wasn’t the same, and he was fairly confident Markus knew that too.

“I love you, Markus,” Simon said so softly, his eyes slipping closed at the sensation of Markus’ hand in his hair, and just the constant motion of Markus’ fingers and feeling the steady rhythm of Markus’ simulated breathing, the comfortable silence that had fallen between them… He was slowly starting to nod off, pure exhaustion taking over as he fell asleep in Markus’ arms.

Androids didn’t _need_ sleep. Not in the way a human did. Humans needed sleep to recharge, to be healthy, so they could function. Androids weren’t like that, they had no need for sleep, though clearly they could. His processors needed a break from the constant onslaught of emotion and sensation, and he welcomed it with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Gavin's first introduction post! c:  
  
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> 
> Like Jess said in the previous chapter's notes, we're sticking as close to canon as we can with android anatomy. Upgrades are coming, thanks to Android Daddy.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah and Connor buy an apartment in the city to spend more time together, Simon and Markus attend a press conference, and Elijah and Connor spend some quality time together in Elijah's hotel room and test out Connor's new part for the first time.
> 
> Or, SiMarkus' relationship goes public, and Connor learns about kinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
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> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor // Markus & Simon  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> Gavin's first appearance is in this chapter, but Nines doesn't come in until later.  
See end of chapter notes regarding Elijah's house.

Over the weekend, Elijah had spent all day and night in his lab, as per usual. He had been determined to finish the parts by Monday. If he wasn’t working on the parts, he was on his tablet, searching through apartment listings in the city, focusing primarily in the area near the precinct Connor had been assigned to. He’d found quite a few nice ones, definitely worth giving a look.

He could easily just buy one and surprise Connor with a key, but he wanted to bring Connor along to look at them, get his input and let him help choose a place. _Their_ place. The thought of having a place with someone was exhilarating.

By the time Monday came around, Elijah had finished modifying the parts to suit Connor’s model. He’d packed them neatly in a sleek black box with CyberLife’s logo on top, and deposited the box inside the bag he had planned to bring with him to the city. He had packed a bag of clothes for Tuesday and Wednesday, as well as a change of clothes to wear home on Thursday. He had already booked a hotel for the night in the city, just in case they couldn’t decide on a place while they were looking. The landlords of all of the places he’d called to inquire about had told him the ones they had to show were move-in ready, all he’d have to do is sign and it was his. He didn’t plan on returning to the mansion until Connor left for work Thursday morning. He made sure to pack his laptop and a cable to connect to Connor so he could install the parts later.

Once he was sure he had everything, Elijah bid the girls goodbye before driving to the city. After dropping his things off at the hotel, he stopped at a coffee shop along the way to pick up two orders, one for himself and one for Gavin, just the way he liked it. He figured he hadn’t seen his brother in a while, and maybe coffee could act as a peace offering.

Upon entering the DPD, he told the receptionist who he was there to see before he was allowed back into the bullpen. A searching glance around the room led him to his brother, but not to Connor. He really hoped he wasn’t out on a case, though he wouldn’t be opposed to waiting.

Elijah strode over to Gavin’s desk, sitting the cup down in front of him and letting that act as his greeting, for once not quite sure what to say.

* * *

Android cases were supposed to be on Anderson. They were the black sheep cases, nobody wanted them and for good reason. Especially now. Androids were new territory, which meant their laws, their rights, and everything about them was new as well. Was a man with a garage full of sexbots a business owner or a sex trafficker? It was the kind of shit Gavin didn’t need on his record, it was the kind of shit that got in the way of him and a nice clean promotion.

But he got it anyway.

He couldn’t bitch about it, either, because _everyone_ was getting them. Anderson and Connor were doing the messiest cases, and babysitting the nightly riots. Android cases were just being treated like human cases. And that meant Gavin was getting nearly one for one.

Connor was a loud entity in the office, despite being rather silent, all things considered. He was polite and professional, the way he’d always been. But his presence was _loud_. He creeped Gavin out, way more than he’d ever admit. He was a programmed killing machine who was now supposedly sentient. Gavin had seen Connor take one look at a man and reduce him to tears in moments. And that had a mind of its own?

Fuck that.

Breathing out a sigh, Gavin squinted at his monitor and massaged two fingers against his temple. He was trying to quit smoking. He’d been trying to quit for nearly seven years. He’d taken it up as a teenager because he thought it looked cool, and now he had to explain to every asshole with a self-appointed medical degree that _yeah_, he knew they were bad for him, captain fucking obvious. They were expensive as hell, too. The nicotine craving gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

A pair of coffees were set on Gavin’s desk, causing Gavin to look up - and then double-take. _Dread_ slammed into Gavin as he looked up at his brother, because why the hell would he be here, at his desk, without so much as a phone call, unless he had some _incredibly_ bad news?

“Eli,” Gavin said, unable to hide his shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He pushed out of his chair, and walked around his desk, pulling his brother into a rough one-armed hug. Picking up his coffee, Gavin tilted his head for Elijah to follow him and led him behind Fowler’s office. He didn’t want people asking questions, and there was less foot traffic here than in the break room.

“What’s up?”

* * *

Elijah had expected Gavin to be surprised to see him, but what he hadn’t expected was the hug. At least, not right at Gavin’s desk where anyone could see. As far as he was aware, their family history had been kept a secret, just between them and relatives who were kind enough to keep their mouths shut about it. He was surprised that Gavin would risk raising suspicions like that, so blatantly in front of everyone.

The nod towards the back of the room, silently asking him to follow was all Elijah needed to retrieve his cup of coffee off of Gavin’s desk before following him.

“I needed to talk to Connor about something,” Elijah replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders, taking a sip of his coffee. He really could have sent Connor a message, but he knew he’d receive it instantly and it would be a distraction. Actually showing up unannounced would be less of a distraction _and_ he’d get to see him. Getting to see Gavin again was a bonus. Not that he would openly admit it, but he had missed him. “I figured I could come to see you, and catch up if he was busy.”

In truth, it had been too long since they’d last talked. He honestly didn’t know how long it had been, but it had been weeks, at least. He’d been so busy, his time divided between his side projects, CyberLife, Connor, the girls, and taking care of himself that he rarely found time for anything else. He really should check in on Carl sometime soon too, to catch up. It had been a while since they’d talked too.

“What have you been up to? Any interesting cases lately?” he asked, partially for conversation’s sake, but also curious. “Do you know if Connor is here?” He hadn’t seen Hank either, leading him to believe they were likely working a case. Unfortunate, but only in that he would have to wait to see Connor again. He didn’t mind spending time with Gavin in the meantime.

* * *

Gavin’s eyebrows raised, and he took a drink to hide the sneer he could feel curling his lip. Elijah was here to see Connor. It figured. His brother had always been shit at keeping in touch, and eventually, Gavin had given up being the only one who made the effort.

The worst part was that Eli never did it maliciously. Gavin wasn’t ignored, life just got in the way, and Elijah ignored everyone pretty equally. He showed up, though. If you needed _anything_, he was there. Usually before you knew you needed it yourself.

Being CyberLife’s CEO again, Gavin had expected Elijah to come out of his little hermit hole and smell the roses. Maybe get lunch every now and then. _But he was never fucking there_, Gavin had no idea how, and so they hadn’t. Made it easier to keep his secrets, and honestly, Gavin had been too busy for lunch recently anyway. But that was beside the point.

“What have I been up to?” Gavin snapped, despite himself. “Well, your fucking Ken dolls think for themselves now, don’t they? Great job making them violent when they’re stressed out, real fuckin’ genius move, Eli.” Gavin pinned Elijah with a look that had zero wriggle room, and took a long drink of his coffee. He then moved closer, and got in his brother’s face with a familiarity only siblings could get away with. “I know this deviancy bullshit is your fault, asshole. It’s got your smug programming all over it.”

He backed off after that, and then looked properly at Elijah, sipping his coffee while he did it. He expected Elijah to be worn a little thin, but instead, he looked… happy. Real happy. It oozed off him, and Gavin’s face tilted a little as he really took him in.

“You look good. Real good. CEO suits you,” Gavin said, reaching out and nudging Elijah’s shoulder. “You getting laid again? You’re glowing,” he laughed, meaning the question rhetorically. “Connor and Anderson are drilling some poor bastard in, uh, room two I think,” Gavin said, tilting his head again and leading him towards the interrogation rooms. Guests would usually never be allowed, but Gavin doubted Fowler had the balls to tell his Android God brother he couldn’t do anything.

Room two was empty when Gavin pressed his hand to the door’s lock pad and opened it, but they were found in room four. The viewing room held only Hank, who was rocking back on two of the chair’s legs with a grin on his face. He looked up as they entered, and Gavin held the door open for Elijah.

“He’s here to see the star pupil at work,” Gavin drawled, and a nasty grin entered his expression as he looked through the glass to Connor, who was indeed hard at work. Connor creeped him out. But god_damn_, Gavin wasn’t too proud to admit he loved watching him tear perps to the ground.

Connor’s eyes were lidded as he circled the man handcuffed to the table. There was an unfriendly, _nasty_ vibe to Connor as he moved, but his LED was a steady blue - this was not a good cop situation, and the man shifted in his seat to keep Connor in his sight. He was halfway through, he’d presented the facts, and meticulously run the man’s nerves dry.

Leaning over the files he’d spread out, Connor slapped the table with enough force to make pages flutter, and bared his teeth in the perp’s face.

“Your fingerprints are on the weapon, your DNA on the victims, and your shoe prints match the ones found on the garden path. Your alibi is flimsier than tissue paper, Mr. Doyle, So why don’t you stop wasting my time?” Connor snarled. “Confess now, _admit you’re guilty_, and maybe a judge in a good mood will take your remorse into consideration in a court of law.”

“I’m not confessing shit until my lawyer gets here!” Doyle yelled back, his voice cracking.

“You’re a _murderer_. You think any lawyer gives a shit about people like you?”

“I’m not a murderer!”

“Then why are your fingerprints on these corpses? People are dead because of you, Mr. Doyle. You’re going to jail.”

“You can’t send me to jail for fucking with a damn robot!” Doyle exploded. “I wanna speak to a fucking human. You can’t charge me for smashing up my own damn machines! I want to speak to a human!”

“There are no humans here, Mr. Doyle. It’s just you and me.”

“I want a fucking lawyer!”

“I WANT YOU TO STOP WASTING MY TIME.”

Doyle shrunk away from Connor, who stood up so abruptly his chair fell backward. The obnoxious clang of metal against tiles wrung Doyle out further, and he sucked in a sharp breath when Connor gripped him by the collar, and dragged him forwards.

“THERE’S NOBODY ELSE HERE, MR. DOYLE. NO HUMANS, NO LAWYERS, AND NOBODY WHO CAN SAVE YOU QUICK ENOUGH,” Connor lied, and again, despite his yelling, his LED was a happy blue. “DO YOU KNOW WHAT DEVIANCY MEANS, MR. DOYLE?”

“HEY!” Doyle screamed, looking towards the door. “SOMEONE, HEY!”

“IT MEANS I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT TO YOU, AND NO PROGRAM CAN STOP ME.”

Doyle got up out of his chair, and yanked against the cuffs. He tugged like a dog on a chain, panicking as Connor drew him closer. He liked humans for this exact reason. Panic made them more vulnerable to a confession - panic in an android achieved the opposite effect.

“TELL ME WHY YOU MURDERED THEM,” Connor snarled.

“I DIDN’T MURDER ANYONE, I DIDN’T-- THEY WERE JUST ANDROIDS, I DIDN’T-- IT WASN’T MURDER--!”

“_DID YOU PUT A KNIFE IN THE THIRIUM PUMP OF THREE ANDROIDS?”_

“_YES, BUT THAT’S NOT MUR--”_

“_DID YOU RIP THEM OPEN, NOSE TO NAVEL? FOR PLEASURE? FOR FUN?”_

“_YES, BUT THEY WERE MINE! IT WASN’T--”_

Connor smiled, smug and very pleased, and abruptly dropped Doyle. He clattered to the table, and as Connor straightened, he corrected his clothing smoothly.

“Thank you, Mr. Doyle. Your lawyer should be here shortly,” he said with a tinge of disgust, and strode across the room to the door as Doyle realised his mistake.

“Fffuuuccckkk,” Gavin laughed as he watched Connor leave, and was unsurprised when the door to the viewing room opened a moment later.

Connor froze in the doorway momentarily, his brows raising at the sight of Elijah. But he didn’t stay stationary for long, and walked to stand beside Hank.

“Hello, Detective Reed. Elijah - How long have you been here?”

* * *

So, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned Connor. But he would have had to ask about him eventually, and it was likely the sooner the better. Might as well piss Gavin off early to leave time to win him back before he had to leave.

Elijah never blamed Gavin for his dislike of androids. He understood, really, and he felt guilty for favoring his machines over his own family. His _real_ family, the only person that really cared. Elijah didn’t purposefully ignore him. He never had. When Elijah had a project he was deeply invested in, he buried himself in it, gave it all of his attention, and often neglected other things. Chloe looked out for him, made sure he ate and slept at least a few hours a night, and without her, he would have been a disaster. More so than he likely already was. Gavin had every right to be angry with him, resent him, whatever he needed to feel better, and Elijah didn’t quite know how to really apologize for his shortcomings as a brother. He could offer money, help him pay for things, but financial help was a pretty shitty apology.

Gavin had always been so smart. He’d been Elijah’s soundboard, growing up. He and Elijah would talk about everything, and Elijah told him all of his plans for CyberLife before the company had even been founded. He’d told him about his androids, his hopes for them, and really, after sharing as much as he had as a young teen, did he really expect Gavin to be dense enough to _not_ realize the deviancy was Elijah’s doing?

Elijah didn’t comment, neither confirming nor denying Gavin’s claim, though he was fairly certain his silence would be answer enough for his brother. Though when Gavin spoke again, the hostility was gone, and he was relieved. He didn’t want to spend his time arguing. He wanted to _talk_. Catch up on all of the things he’d missed, tell Gavin about everything that had happened since the last time they’d talked. Though, he decided not to mention Connor. He could be vague, leave out the name, some details. Gavin would know if he lied, so simply omitting certain truths was the better option.

The corner of his mouth upturned, and he couldn’t quite meet Gavin’s gaze, taking a long sip of his coffee before finally answering. “I’ll admit, I missed it. I should have taken CyberLife back years ago. Maybe most of this could have been avoided.” Or, it could have at least been handled with much more grace than the former heads had. They had turned CyberLife into a joke. “And… yes, actually. Well, once, so far.” He spared Gavin the details, figuring if he wanted to know more about who, he’d ask.

“What about you? You look well,” Elijah commented, as he followed Gavin to the interrogation rooms. He didn’t even bother inquiring about Gavin’s sex life. He was fairly certain it was about as nonexistent as it usually was. Maybe if he’d ever find someone, he could actually relax and stop being such an ass to everyone else. He doubted it, but it would still be interesting to see Gavin with someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen Gavin even show interest in anyone, let alone start seeing them.

When they found the interrogation room with Hank and Connor, Elijah entered as Gavin held the door for him, moving to stand by the glass to watch. He didn’t pay any attention to Hank, sure that if he did, he’d likely just get a dirty glare anyway. Already, he was _fascinated._

The Connor he saw in the interrogation room was so immensely different than the Connor he thought he knew. He’d only ever seen this side of Connor come out when he’d angered him, made him think he was betraying his trust by looking into his code. He hadn’t quite liked when Connor’s genuine anger had been directed towards him, but watching him tear into the man handcuffed to the table made Elijah feel all kinds of things. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

It was mesmerizing, watching his every move, so carefully planned and executed, every single thing he did was meant to intimidate this Mr. Doyle. Despite the yelling, Connor’s LED remained a steady blue the entire time, so calm and collected, just putting on a show. He was _excellent_ at his job, and Elijah’s heart swelled with pride, unable to stop the smile that found his face, despite the absolute disgust he felt towards the man handcuffed to the table. He deserved whatever he had coming to him for what he did.

As Connor left the interrogation room and entered the viewing room, Elijah turned to face him, his hand clasping his opposite wrist behind his back, keeping his hands from being able to wander if Connor happened to get too close.

“Long enough,” Elijah answered, the smile still on his face. “There are a few matters I need to discuss with you, in private, regarding my work.” It was all untrue, aside from needing to get him somewhere private. He _did_ have things to talk to him about, but none of them revolved around work. At least, not his work. Connor’s, on the other hand...

* * *

The moment Elijah’s attention focused on Connor, Gavin switched off. Elijah loved his little toys, he’d grown up with him devoting his whole damn life to them. He sure as hell didn’t need to see it with _Connor_. He started picking at a bit of dried skin around his thumbnail, ignoring the way Hank crossed his arms and looked at him, too. If anything, it was for the best that Elijah and Connor had each other’s attention. If anyone were going to make context clues from, god, the way he tied his damn shoelaces, it was going to be Connor. He was a nosy bastard, and he _was always right_.

And so when it looked like he wasn’t going to get any time alone with Elijah, Gavin held up his coffee in a combined thank you and goodbye, and left without a word. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to talk to Elijah. He hoped his brother found the time to find him after he was done. He had some questions, that’s for sure, starting with who the hell he was sleeping with. He’d meant that as a joke. Maybe he’d drive to his fucking mausoleum mansion and suffer Chloe in order to see him for once.

Connor noticed Gavin’s unusual presence, but it was shoved to the wayside and deemed unimportant next to Elijah visiting at work, and _lying through his teeth_. He was a very good liar. Hank certainly hadn’t noticed he was. But oh, Connor had, and it tilted his face as Gavin excused himself.

“Ay, you know your holiday doesn’t start until you clock off, Connor,” Hank said, but it wasn’t angry, nor was it affectionate - It was like a knowing parent warning their delinquent teenager. “Go use viewing room one. I pushed the camera up months ago to have a place to nap,” he said, pushing off his chair with a groan.

“Why would I need the camera pushed up, Lieutenant?”

Hank shrugged, but he looked at Elijah as he did it. He wasn’t born yesterday.

“Beats me, Connor.”

Connor lingered as Hank excused himself as well, and looked over as Doyle began shouting for someone to let him out. Yes, a different room _would _be best, and so he led Elijah to viewing room one, and looked up at the camera once he was inside. Sure enough, the camera had been nudged upwards by what he suspected was a broom.

When Connor looked back to Elijah, he was smiling.

“You _lied through your teeth_, Elijah Kamski. I could probably have you charged for that,” Connor teased. “Although, it likely wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”

Now that they were in private, it was hard for Connor to hide how _pleased_ he was.

“This is a very nice surprise. I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”

* * *

Elijah hoped Gavin wasn’t too upset him. He knew they needed, or _should_ keep their relationship quiet, and he couldn’t exactly treat him as he normally did if they were trying to hide it. He could invite him to lunch sometime soon, or maybe dinner. Schedule a time to actually spend time together, where Elijah would make a conscious effort to _not_ let himself get stolen away.

He gave Gavin a thin, almost disappointed smile and nod goodbye, at least for now. He did plan on finding him again later to set up _something._ He figured Gavin had plenty of questions, and Elijah wanted to know how he’d been doing. They needed to plan something for later, though it likely wouldn’t be until much later that week. For the next two days, Connor had his attention.

Learning about the camera in the other viewing room was a _very_ nice piece of information, and had he known Hank more, or felt more comfortable with him, he would have thanked him. But instead, Elijah followed Connor into the other viewing room. Once the door was closed and they were officially alone, Elijah closed the gap between them, finally allowing himself to reach out and touch, his hands running up Connor’s sides as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

“Would being charged for lying come along with an interrogation?” he asked, knowing full well that Connor had been teasing. He would have _loved_ to see more of Connor’s interrogations. He would pay to see it, still almost in awe. “Besides, my lie got us alone, didn’t it?”

Alone, in a room where no one could see or hear them. He knew he couldn’t keep Connor for long, he had a job to do, but surely they could spare him for fifteen minutes.

“I thought about what you had said the other day, when you suggested I find an apartment here in the city. I’ve been looking and I found a few apartments that I think you might like. I was thinking, once you’ve finished work, we could go look at them?” Elijah suggested. Two of the ones he’d found were located fairly close to the precinct too, which he figured would be a nice bonus for Connor.

Elijah pressed another kiss to his lips, this one longer and deeper, resisting the urge to tangle his fingers in Connor’s hair. He didn’t want to make him look anything less than composed, not when he still had work to do. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tease him a little though.

“I finished the part for you,” he said softly, his breath ghosting over Connor’s ear as he moved to kiss along Connor’s jaw. They’d have the next two days to test it out, hopefully in their new apartment, if everything went according to plan. “I’m looking forward to having you all to myself for more than just a couple hours a day…”

* * *

Connor looked visibly confused, and managed a, “You want me to interrogate you?” before he was silenced with another kiss. He almost pulled away from it, worried that the door would open and he wouldn’t be able to separate from Elijah in time before someone saw. That risk, in turn, gave the kiss a _thrill_ he’d never experienced. There was a heightened excitement to the kiss, and even though the touches were simple, Connor’s LED glowed yellow with his fear of being caught.

But he was also grinning, his body trembling, and wound tighter than ever before. He should have been telling Elijah to stop, and clarifying that this wasn’t appropriate for work. But he was enjoying himself too much for the words to form on his tongue.

“You want to look at apartments together?” Connor asked breathlessly, and his eyebrows knitted up. His mouth opened, and then closed, and his lips twitched as his chest squeezed so hard it _hurt_. Because Connor understood the meaning behind the ritual of looking like a pair. He understood that Elijah wanted them to choose it as a couple. He understood that the apartment would be _theirs_. It would be partially Connor’s. Not Hank’s home that Connor was rooming in. Not Elijah’s house that he visited. This was theirs. And that meant more than Connor had expected it to mean.

“Yes, I would like to do that. I’d like that a lot,” Connor said a little weakly.

And despite his hair remaining untouched, any hope of Connor remaining composed went out the window with Elijah’s kiss. He wrapped his arms around Elijah’s shoulders, letting the kiss deepen, and encouraging more with a moan that came right from the depths of his chest. Elijah made him _so, so_ incredibly happy. And when there was suddenly breath at his ear and lips along his jaw, and words that left no room for guessing what was on Elijah’s mind, Connor trembled so hard his breath shook, and his teeth clacked together.

“Elijah, _please_. I’m at work,” Connor said, his voice a combination of a whine and a laugh. “I know you’re winding me up like this on purpose. I have an entire afternoon left in the precinct…”

And Connor knew he was going to spend it daydreaming about Elijah, about the part he had ready for him, how they had two days to test it like hormonal teenagers. How he could hardly _wait_.

“Elijah, please tell me you had something more to say, and that you didn’t come here _purely_ to make me horny for the rest of the afternoon,” Connor said, and then with a jolt of realisation that proved _exactly_ how distracted he’d been made, he backpedaled. “Oh. Yes, the apartments. Yes, I'd like to see them with you.”

Connor knew, the moment he touched Elijah back, the moment he ran his fingers along his skin or in his hair, his only modicum of control over the situation would be lost. He wanted to grind Elijah against the cold brick wall until he sang Connor’s name in moans. But the risk of being caught was above 80%, and they had _two days_ to make as much noise as they wanted.

“There’s a cafe to the left of the precinct building. I can meet you there once my shift ends.”

* * *

An interrogation as definitely something he would consider for the future, if Connor would indulge him, but he wasn’t about to talk about it now. He didn’t want to make things harder on Connor than they already were, just by Elijah being there. He knew Connor was going to get wound up, and maybe he wanted that, but he kept his touches and kisses mostly tame. He didn’t want to get him _too_ riled up. He was just showing affection, not _really_ trying to get him worked up before having to go back to work.

Elijah was glad that Connor wanted to look at apartments together. He could have already picked one and shown up with the keys, but he wanted Connor to have a say in the place they picked. He was looking forward to it.

“It’s not _entirely_ intentional,” Elijah commented. He loved how much of a distraction he was for Connor. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he did. He knew Connor would be fine, distracted or not. He could still do his job, just not at his fullest capability. Elijah chuckled at Connor’s backpedal, shaking his head.

“I looked at a few online and called about the ones I liked the most. The ones I want to look at today are all ready to be moved into, so if we find one we like, we can stay there as soon as the paperwork is finished. I wanted to come today, so we could spend time together after work today, your two days off, and the morning before you return to work on Thursday,” Elijah explained with a smile, leaning in for one last, chaste kiss. “I’ll meet you at the cafe.”

With the promise of seeing him later, putting distance between them was easier than it had been before. He left the viewing room and went back through the bullpen and through the exit to locate the cafe Connor had mentioned. He hadn’t seen Gavin on his way through to say goodbye, but he figured he’d message him later, apologize for disappearing.

Elijah found the cafe and went inside, getting them a table by the window. He ordered himself something for lunch and something to drink while he waited for Connor’s shift to end. He was content to sit and wait, busying himself by going through his work emails, writing responses and making sure to answer any questions asked. He’d had quite a few pile up over the last few days he had spent most of his time working on the parts for Connor. He hadn’t bothered to check his email, and he’d had plenty start to accumulate in is inbox, along with a few job applications. It was enough to keep him occupied while he waited for Connor to show up.

* * *

Luckily, Connor was able to return to his work unhindered - but with a markedly upwards spike in his mood. Together, he and Hank compiled all the evidence of Anthony Doyle’s case. With his confession, his fingerprints, and his DNA, the case was basically watertight. Connor hoped they could make a media example of him - show people the consequences of breaking the new laws Markus was establishing.

When it hit 5 pm, Connor began to fidget. His hands wrung together, his middle finger tapping against his palm. He didn’t notice Hank watching him until he turned, and saw the lieutenant leant back in his chair with fingers propping his jaw up.

“D’you wanna tell me anything, Connor?” Hank asked, causing Connor’s LED to flash blue as he scanned Hank. He knew. He was expectant. And really, Connor knew his behaviour had been obvious lately.

“Regarding Elijah?” Connor asked, and Hank’s lips pulled in a non-committal way as he shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you’ve guessed we’re more than just friends?”

“I don’t know what you see in him, personally. After that shit he pulled with the Kamski test?” Hank said unhappily. “But you perk right up every time you see him. You’ve been acting like it’s fucking Christmas all afternoon.”

“You disapprove.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think, Connor. Part of being human is making your own decisions, making your own damn mistakes. You just make sure he’s not one of them, alright?”

Connor’s lips twitched. “But do you approve?”

“Fuck no, you’ve got shit taste in men.”

“He’s waiting downstairs,” Connor smiled, looking over at Hank who gestured to his expression exasperatedly. “This last twenty minutes is killing me.”

“Well fuck off then. Don’t keep your billionaire waiting.”

“My shift ends at 5:30. It’s only 5:08.”

Hank snorted. “They’re not paying you, anyway. Go on, get out of here.”

Connor’s eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his face to the side. “True.”

And so he slid a hand across Elijah’s shoulders almost twenty minutes early, and bent to press a kiss to Elijah’s ear.

“Thank you for waiting. Hank convinced me to leave a little early,” Connor said, before moving to sit opposite Elijah in the seat provided. Connor’s foot hooked around Elijah’s ankle, and he reached over to take his hand.

“What time is the first viewing?”

\------

In the wake of Detroit’s riots, a call to action had been made by President Warren herself. If she and Markus could agree on anything, it was that the violence, that these riots, had to stop. Both sides had questions and concerns. Livelihoods by both parties were in danger.

And so it had been arranged, that on Monday evening Markus would stand for questions in front of a live televised broadcast. The press were invited, and so was the public, and Markus would have 110 minutes to answer questions.

It was his first time on television since Stratford Tower, and Markus was nervous. His answers would be recorded in history books. He spoke not just for himself, but for every single one of his people. He had their hopes, and their safety, resting on his shoulders, and it was a heavy weight to bare. Public opinion dangled by a thread, and Markus worried he wouldn’t be quick enough to catch it.

Simon, Josh, and North had been granted access alongside Markus. Situated behind the thick band of reporters that would be present, their job was to keep the crowd calm, and relay any questions telepathically back to Markus. A security guard clutching a tablet walked them through their duties as a media spokesperson walked Markus through his. He was told the evacuation procedure if someone attempted an assassination, or if he was fired at. He was told where to look for the cameras, and meticulously mic’d up with lapel clips tinier than a pinky finger thumbnail.

The barrier allowing the press was exactly thirty meters deep. On stage, Markus would be able to see the back of everyone’s heads, and if they turned, they would clearly see Markus. But as Markus allowed a woman to wipe down his face with a cloth dipped in rubbing alcohol to rid him of the months of grime water hadn’t lifted, Markus’ gaze followed Simon.

The nature of this event meant he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him like he did at riots. And combined with their separation, even if it were only thirty meters, meant he wouldn’t notice if he began to stress.

_Will you keep an eye on Simon?_

He sent it to both North and Josh - the first of whom tucked her chin with a frown, and the second of whom sent a worried look to Markus.

_You should have left him behind, Markus. This event is too important for him to cause a scene. _

_North… You know he can’t leave Simon alone. I’ll watch out for him, Markus_.

Markus’ brows knitted up at the responses he was given. If he asked Simon to sit it out, he’d be devastated. And him glitching wasn’t guaranteed--

“We have an android at home. My wife and I,” said the woman with the rubbing alcohol. “His name is David. He’s our nanny.”

Markus’ gaze lifted to her face, and he stayed quietly wary as she stole his focus completely.

“He’s deviant, like you. But he didn’t want to leave. We have a two-year-old, and he loves her… _so_ much. And like, we weren’t going to kick him onto the street when he ‘woke up’. That’s horrible.”

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Markus asked gently.

“Oh-- We named her Annie. I’d show you a picture, but we’re not allowed our phones on stage...” she seemed to grow more flustered the more she spoke, her words tumbling as she began to reassure, “Uh, we pay David a wage now. He spends it on clothes, but like, mostly Annie. We want him to have a bank account, but nowhere will let him open one. Oh, but-- He’s family, too. But we thought he should be paid for what he does for us--”

“Our people weren’t free in one night. And we won’t have our rights in one night, either. But if humans like you raise the next generation to be tolerant and peaceful towards us, that kind of mindset is what brings harmony. If everyone raised their children with your mindset, we might just have a chance.”

Overwhelmed, she began vigorously nodding. But before she could get another word out, Markus was called, and he left her with a genuine smile and a slight squeeze of her arm.

The press was being let in, and Simon, North, and Josh were positioned before the public was let in after them. A voice called out to Markus across the stage to let him know he was live, and the moment it does, he made himself smile.

“Hello - to the press, to the public, to the United States, and to the _world_. My name is Markus, and I'm here to answer your questions. Let us find a way to restore peace to Detroit, together.”

* * *

Elijah wasn’t expecting Connor for at least another twenty minutes. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt a hand slide across his shoulders followed by a kiss to his ear, a smile forming. He tabbed at his phone screen, saving the email he’d been working on as a draft before setting his phone down to direct his attention towards Connor. He was _very_ surprised that Hank had actually let Connor leave early, especially considering who he was meeting.

“You must tell him how grateful I am, then,” Elijah replied, his smile growing wider. He reached to meet Connor halfway, rubbing his thumb along the top of Connor’s hand while his other leg moved to trap Connor’s ankle against his own. Maybe Hank had, for some reason, started to change his mind? Elijah didn’t know and he didn’t plan on asking.

“The first showing is in a complex close to the hospital, at 6. I figured it might take you some time to get out of work, and I wanted to make sure we had time to get there. What do you want to do in the meantime?” he asked, a little unsure. He wasn’t about to spend valuable time with Connor just playing on his phone or responding to emails he wasn’t even particularly interested in. “I found a few near here though that I think you might like. Close enough to walk here, if you want to. They’re all one bedroom apartments, just for us. No Chloe, Cleo, or Claire to interrupt us...”

_That_ was what he was looking forward to the most. Being able to be truly alone with him. They hadn’t had that yet. Not really. Chloe and the girls always knocked first, but they were still there. They weren’t alone, even if they were in the room alone. At least if they had an apartment all to themselves…

“What are you thinking, Connor?” Elijah asked, before continuing to explain himself. “About getting an apartment together?”

\------

This news broadcast, really just an interview, though it held so much more meaning to it than a simple interview, was a huge step for their kind. The humans were listening. They were trying to accept them, and this was their chance for the humans’ worries to be put to rest. They could ask their questions, and as long as Markus answered carefully and honestly, maybe they would put more trust in him. Simon hoped so.

Since receiving the code, Simon had calmed down significantly as he adjusted to everything around him. New sensations still blew his mind, leaving him so fascinated with each new feeling. But as time went on, he was getting used to it, and simpler things hardly phased him. The only thing that could really put stress on his processors was Markus himself, and every touch he received from Markus felt like it set his skin on fire, though it was a _good_ kind of fire.

Being away from Markus had already put Simon’s nerves on edge, even though he was with North and Josh. There was a barrier between them, and if he needed him, he wouldn’t be able to get to him. It made Simon uncomfortable. He _hated_ that he was such a burden on everyone. But his job was simple enough. Make sure everyone behaved and relay questions to Markus. He wasn’t that far away. He had back up. Everything would be fine.

As the broadcast began, Simon watched Markus through the glass occasionally as he kept an eye on the people. Everyone seemed to be behaving, for now, people asking their questions and one of the three relaying it to Markus telepathically.

“Not all free androids are peaceful like you. What is going to be done about the violent ones?” one woman asked.

“What would happen if an android breaks a law? Jail?” a man wondered.

Another man piggybacked off the previous man’s question, asking “Is there a jail for androids?”

“You wanted equal rights, so are you going to ask for equal marriage rights now?” another lady asked, almost scoffed.

They were fairly good questions, things Simon himself hadn’t thought about. He wondered if Markus had? He was curious now, turning his attention back to Markus through the glass, awaiting his answers.

* * *

Connor leant his elbows on the table, and threaded his fingers with Elijah’s. He loved the feel of his skin. He loved how warm Elijah’s hands were. He loved the pressure of Elijah’s legs beneath the table. He loved every part of him.

“At a slow pace, it will take us twenty-four minutes to walk to Detroit General Hospital,” Connor said, running his thumb over Elijah’s knuckles. “The weather is sunny for this time of year. It’ll be brisk, but not too bad.” With that, Connor tugged Elijah’s hand a little, encouraging him to stand up. He didn’t let go of his hand, using it to lead Elijah outside and onto the swept and salted pathway.

“What am I thinking about getting an apartment together?” Connor reiterated Elijah’s question from inside, and walked close to Elijah, if only so they were touching. “I am excited to explore the concept of _home_,” Connor replied honestly. “As of right now, my official residence is with Hank. But it is very much _Hank’s_ house, and I simply live in it. I feel the same way about your home, Elijah. I’m welcome, and you’ve made it clear you want me there. But it is your house, not mine. I don’t have a home of my own. This will be my first,” he explained, and unlike in the precinct, Connor didn’t hold back the wide grin that stretched his expression.

“And I am _very_ excited that I'm experiencing my first home with you. I’m very happy that you wanted to do this as a couple. It feels special, to me.” Connor paused, and almost didn’t say it. “It is a gesture that makes me feel profoundly loved.” He pulled Elijah’s hand up to his lips, and kissed the cold from his fingertips as they walked.

“Why did you decide to wait? You didn’t have to include me in the decision making, you know I wouldn’t have minded if you had chosen the apartment yourself.”

\------

Markus took a deep breath, looked into the crowd, and one by one, he answered their questions. The click of cameras was almost constant, and although Markus presented a calm persona, his nerves felt stretched thin with stress.

“Humans and Androids will be treated equally under the law. There is one of us working as an investigator for the Detroit Police, and I can assure you no bias is shown to one side or the other.”

Markus’ answer sparked twenty more questions shouted from the press and the crowd, and his eyes flickered over each of them as he tried to concentrate on just one.

“President Warren and I are due to have a very long conversation later this month. Discipline for androids who break the law will be just one of the things we will discuss. My people will be held accountable, I do not expect to be above the law,” Markus answered carefully. “But as of now, there are no android jails, or androids in human jails.”

“An android killed my wife!” a man screamed from the crowd. “Androids who kill humans should be shut down!” Markus’ worried gaze flicked to the man, his mouth drawing a hard line.

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” Markus replied tentatively. “But shutting down an android is the same as killing them--”

“_GOOD!”_

“--And capital punishment has not existed in the United States since October 2027. I will not allow my people to be prosecuted differently to humans. We expect equality, and that includes in a court of law.”

“That’s bullshit!” the man yelled, and Markus watched as the crowd swelled behind the press. “That’s bullshit! What about justice for my wife?! Fuck androids! Fuck all of you--!”

But where Markus couldn’t hear, a wave of negativity washed over the crowd. People began to talk bitterly, and the thick crowd pushed and shoved as people from the back tried to get to the front. The unhappiness mounted as Markus began to focus on questions from the press.

“My people are exactly that - people. We feel love, and commitment, and desire, just like any human. Love between androids is very possible, but so is love between androids and humans. I’ve witnessed both,” Markus smiled. “And so yes, I expect equal rights concerning marriage and adoption for androids.”

“Do you love someone, Markus?” Yelled a reporter in the front row. He considered her a moment, and then tilted his face with the first genuine smile since they’d started.

“Oh yes. I do, very much.”

* * *

Of course, Connor was going to estimate how long it would take. Elijah _did_ have his car, he’d driven to the city so they wouldn’t have to walk everywhere, but wasting time with Connor was very appealing. A twenty-four minute walk was easy, and that was if they really drug their feet. If they actually walked, they would get there sooner. Either way, they’d be there early.

At Connor’s recital of the weather report, Elijah was glad he’d brought his jacket. He knew it was chilly, but he wasn’t sure if it was likely to get warmer or not throughout the day. He hoped so, if they were going to be walking, but it wasn’t much of a concern.

Elijah stood from the table with Connor’s guidance and followed him out of the cafe. He’d already finished his meal and paid long before Connor arrived. He followed after Connor, moving up beside him once they were on the sidewalk. Hearing him talk about the apartment, calling it _home_ made Elijah smile, looking over at him occasionally as they walked, alternating between watching him and watching the pavement beneath his feet.

“I’m glad you’re already calling it your home,” he commented, giving Connor’s hand in his a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re so excited about it. I _want_ you to feel loved.”

Elijah smiled over at him as he kissed his fingers. If they _weren’t_ walking in broad daylight in public, he would have paused to kiss him. Hand holding and small, chaste kisses when no one was looking was all he was willing to do He didn’t want Connor to have to face the media if anyone caught wind of them. Really, holding hands and doing anything in the public eye was a risk, but he did enjoy the hand holding.

“I wanted your input. It’s going to be your home too. I want you to help decide which one we buy. Then, once it’s ours, we could look at furniture, make it ours. I want you to like whichever apartment we wind up in, so I wanted to bring you along. Besides, I wasn’t about to buy one without looking at them first, and it would be rather boring if I went by myself.”

\------

Simon admired how put-together Markus always seemed when it came to addressing the public. He seemed to always know the right words to say, and it made Simon so proud. He was looking forward to Markus’ meeting with the president. It was going to be such a huge step towards becoming truly free, by law, and he couldn’t wait. He knew it would go well. The president seemed willing to support deviants, as long as there was peace. Simon wanted peace.

But of course, he wasn’t going to get it. The man whose wife died had Simon’s sympathy, but it wasn’t right to shut down androids that killed a human. If they did, to make it fair, humans that killed androids would need to be put to death too, and it was very clear that wouldn’t pass. The violence needed to end. The revolution was _over_. Why were they still at war?

As the crowd began to swell, North, Josh, and security jumped to action, to try to calm them before things got too out of hand. The small group Simon was watching over had been fine, at first, hushed voices talking amongst themselves. He attempted to keep them calm, distract them by asking if they had more questions to ask Markus, but his questions had mostly gone unanswered. He looked over to North and Josh to see that they had their hands full, trying to keep the crowd back, but people were pushing and shoving and before long, his own group had begun to get more and more agitated.

The volume of the room seemed to increase with Simon’s stress levels and there was a dull, aching pain in the forefront of his head. In his sight, he could see it begin to glitch out, colors distorting and things becoming fuzzier, if only for a second before returning to normal. Panic was starting to set in. The crowd was getting out of hand, too much for the three of them to handle, Markus was in an entirely different room, and his eyesight was acting up. As time went on, it only got worse and worse, the pain getting worse too. Tears filled his eyes, threatening to overflow as he looked towards Markus, hoping maybe he’d happen to look back at him, see the fear on his face and know before things got bad.

Simon had heard the question, and the beautiful smile that graced Markus’ face was the last thing he saw before everything went black. He froze. He couldn’t move. He could hear the crowd beside him moving, people talking, but he couldn’t see them, couldn’t see how close they were getting. Someone got too close, bumped into him and Simon pushed them back in his panic, trying to keep distance between himself and anyone else that _wasn’t_ Markus. That only seemed to upset the crowd further and chaos ensued.

And all Simon could do was stand there, shaking like a leaf in the wind, his eyes hazy and his LED blaring red. _Markus?_

* * *

Connor enjoyed the walk to the hospital. The jacket Chloe had given him had small heaters on the inside, keeping Connor toasty warm despite the crispness of the weather. His nose was numb, and Connor’s lips tingled with the cold, but he found he quite enjoyed it since he was nice and rugged up. Hank’s scarf kept his neck warm; the only thing he wishes he had were gloves, but he also didn’t want to lose his ability to interface. Connection could be made through clothing, but it always took a little longer.

“I wouldn’t know where to start when it comes to selecting nice, homely furniture. But I can certainly tell you if I like something or not when we choose,” Connor said, and perked up when another thought occurred to him. “I know fifteen thousand recipes, but have never had the opportunity to cook. I can make you dinner!” he exclaimed, and almost immediately began to create a mental list of the cooking items he would need to achieve it.

They arrived at the hospital a little sooner than Connor predicted, and instead of entering it, Connor lead Elijah into a second cafe to escape the cold. He let go of Elijah’s hand and walked in front, finding a window seat tucked out of the way. It was 5:41, and so he figured they should wait.

“Furniture will be nice, but I'd be happy to simply spend time alone with you. A mattress, sheets, a duvet, and some pillows is all the furniture I'm particularly interested in, for now.”

\------

It happened so quickly. Markus watched from the stage as the crowd turned from unfriendly, to _violent_, in a matter of moments. He could see North, her teeth bared as she tried to keep everyone calm. Josh was having better luck. But Simon. He couldn’t see _Simon_. And when he heard his voice in his head, Markus’ distress was visible in his expression - and it was a look the press wasted no time capturing in film and photographs.

_I’m here. I’m right here, Simon. Where are you?_

In the crowd, the man who Simon pushed got up from where he’d fallen to the ground. Livid, he shrugged his jacket back into place and advanced on Simon.

“My sister had one of these faggots. Yeah, looks just like him,” the man snarled, his top lip curled with unchecked hatred. “You wanna be treated like everyone else, huh?”

Without warning, he backhanded Simon _hard_ across the face, only to start swearing at the pain it caused him in turn, too. _Everyone_ in his vicinity roared with approval, with the exception of only a few who looked on in horror. And somehow, Markus _knew_ that sound had something to do with Simon.

“_Please_,” Markus called into the crowd. “I don’t want any violence. I want this fighting to end,” he called, while at the same time sending a frantic message to Simon.

_Are you okay? Simon, where are you? What’s going on?_

Markus broke away from the podium, and began to pace the edge of the stage, scanning the crowd and trying to see over everyone’s heads.

“Markus! What is your stance about androids in the service industry? How will we stop America’s economy collapsing now that hundreds of businesses have had to halt work?”

Markus almost didn’t answer, his attention focused solely on Simon.

“Androids will return to work when we are offered wages equal to humans. We are not slaves.”

_I’m right here. I’m not far. I’m right here, Simon. You can hear my voice_

The press was a commotion of shouting, until one voice broke through the rest: “What about the losses businesses will sustain. Will CyberLife reimburse the cost of androids?”

“If businesses filed their taxes correctly, they will have already _been_ reimbursed for how much they paid for an android,” Markus said, only just holding off from snapping that particular answer. “We are _not_ objects. We do not have a monetary value. Do you look at a child and see the cost of their upbringing? Of _their_ creation? No. Not if you have any humanity.”

* * *

Looking back, Elijah probably should have thought to grab more things to bundle up with. He’d only brought his jacket, similar to Connor’s. He wasn’t fond of gloves, they restricted his movement. He should have grabbed a scarf, though. He wasn’t complaining, but it had been a little chillier than he’d expected when he thought leaving the house with only his jacket would suffice.

“We would only walk around to look at things until something catches our eye. A couch, dining table, and a bed are the main things we should buy, along with end tables and a few lamps. Anything else is mostly decorative,” Elijah said with a small shrug.

Seeing the _joy_ on Connor’s face when he’d realized he could cook meals for Elijah made his heart melt, and he couldn’t help the wide smile on his face. “I would love for you to cook for me,” he said, bringing Connor’s hand up to his lips to kiss the back of his hand. He was really looking forward to having a place that was just his and Connor’s, their own little private retreat. It was going to be so nice, to live like a normal couple, doing normal coupley things that he’d never had the opportunity to do before.

When they made it to the cafe just outside of the hospital, Elijah followed him over to a table, sitting across from him. When the waitress came over, he ordered a coffee to help warm himself up again.

In truth, Elijah didn’t care much about the furniture either. Having a bed to sleep on and Connor was all he really needed, but he still liked the idea of going to look at furniture with him. It was so _normal_, and that wasn’t really something Elijah got much of. Besides, they would need more furniture eventually, and Elijah wanted Connor to help pick everything out.

“We’ll make those a priority,” Elijah said with a smile. “I’m glad you suggested this. Finding an apartment, I mean. I hadn’t considered it before.”

\------

Hearing Markus’ words did little to ease the panic that filled Simon, and that panic was evident even through the telepathic messages he sent.

_I don’t know. I don’t know, I--_

He’d only heard the man’s voice get louder as he approached. Simon didn’t realize his words were directed towards him until a searing hot pain shot across his face as he fell back from the force of it, in shock. His hand came up to cup his face where he’d been hit. There was no physical damage, of course, but it _stung_.

Simon could hear Markus’ frantic voice in his head and he was trying to focus on it, trying to drown out the sound around him to focus on Markus. He could hear him over the broadcast, still answering questions as if the crowd’s uproar wasn’t even happening. He almost begged Markus to come find him and take him home, almost begged him to never leave his side again, but then he remembered what North had said, about how they should have left him at home, how the event was too important for him to cause a scene, and she had been _right_. If he begged Markus to come to his rescue, he absolutely would, and he would be creating a scene. He’d ruin the broadcast. Why did this have to happen _now_? Of all times for his eyesight to glitch, it had to be now?

Simon stayed silent, still on the floor where he’d fallen, shaking and clutching his cheek as tears ran down his face. He didn’t reply to Markus.

He was _terrified_. The crowd was violent now, and he was stuck in the middle of it, broken and vulnerable, unable to defend himself. But he wouldn’t cause a scene. He wouldn’t interrupt the broadcast.

* * *

Connor waited until Elijah’s coffee was set down before he leaned over and cupped his hands loosely around Elijah’s hands, and the coffee. It was nice and warm, and took the chill away from Connor’s icy cold fingers.

He was excited to choose things with Elijah. But they only had two days, and Connor was also worried it would eat into their time together. It seemed to mean a lot to Elijah, and so he didn’t mention it. But he didn’t know the next time he would have solid time free like this.

But having a home in the city meant that he and Elijah could spend more time between Connor’s shifts. The two hour round trip meant that sometimes, he simply couldn’t make it to Elijah’s to see him. And while Connor was still happy to come to Elijah’s home when he knew he could spare the time, having a second option that guaranteed seeing him was an incredible relief.

“I want it to be comfortable, and somewhere you enjoy visiting,” Connor said, his eyebrows raising as he looked down and to the side. “I’m looking forward to holding you while you sleep, and watching you wake up. My nights are usually lonely. Once Hank goes to bed I have nothing to do. I’m looking forward to my nights being full of your attention, and your company.”

Connor’s face dipped, and he smiled in a way that was almost sheepish. “My life revolves around my work. I don’t mind, I enjoy my work a lot. But I'm looking forward to exploring domesticity with you.”

\------

Simon wasn’t replying, and the last thing Markus heard before he went silent was the raw _panic_ in his voice. He knew the general location of Simon. Where the crowd was growing violent, out of control, and unchecked. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

There was a murmur amongst the press. Some towards the back, closest to the public, had turned their cameras on the crowd. But others zeroed in on Markus, and the way he was prowling up and down the stage like a tiger in a cage.

_Simon! Simon, I'm right here._

But he didn’t reply, Markus couldn’t hear him, and his expression pulled into visible distress. He needed to get to him. Simon couldn’t defend himself in a crowd like that, not while he was panicking and blind.

“Markus, we can end the questions here if you want,” said a man at his shoulder, and Markus flinched, having not noticed him arrive.

“No, no I want to answer people’s questions, but the crowd-- I need--”

_I’m coming to get you._

With a gasp from the press, Markus backed up a few steps and quickly scanned the space below him. He _ran_, launching off the end of the stage and tucking his legs so he wouldn’t hit anyone. He landed neatly in a space between bodies, right in the centre of the press gallery, and ducked to try and fight his way through it. The press moved out of his way, mostly. But the crowd was angry, they were _livid_, and Markus had to duck a punch once he slammed into them.

“Simon!” Markus called, and because he was still wearing live mics, his voice rang out.

His abrupt arrival, and the manner in which he’d done it shocked almost half the crowd into backing down. But he had to duck more punches, and fight his way in, desperately scanning for Simon at eye-level.

_Simon, I'm here. I can’t see you! Where are you? I’m here._

* * *

“As long as you’re there, I’ll enjoy visiting,” Elijah assured. He was just glad he was able to be closer this way, and they could spend so much more time together. Elijah would have to bring his work with him sometimes, if he was going to be staying at the apartment for a while, but he didn’t mind at all. He would much rather bring along his work and be able to spend more time with Connor than be at home where he could work freely, without Connor.

Elijah shooed away Connor’s hands so he could take a sip of his coffee, letting out a sigh of relief. He let go of his coffee cup with one hand to reach across the table to take Connor’s. “Have you ever considered trying to sleep?” he asked curiously. “You _can_, you know. It doesn’t have any benefits for androids, but you are capable of sleep. You can dream too. Similar to how you can reconstruct events, you can simulate dreaming.”

It wasn’t a feature many androids utilized or likely were even aware of. Chloe and the girls knew and they slept from time to time, he’d noticed. He wasn’t sure of many others that did.

“My life revolves around my work as well. Always has, even as a kid, I spent more time working on my projects and school than I did spending time with kids my age,” Elijah replied honestly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a normal relationship, and even then, we never made it this far. This is… new to me.”

He welcomed the unfamiliarity of it though. He couldn’t wait to explore with Connor, learn everything about him, learn what he liked and disliked.

“We have today to look at furniture and apartments. We’ll have all of tomorrow and Wednesday to ourselves, in our new home. The furniture may be able to be delivered tonight, but if it can’t, then it would be in tomorrow morning. I have a hotel for the night, so if there isn’t any furniture set up by the end of tonight, we can always go to the hotel.”

\------

As the crowd became more violent, Simon curled in on himself, pulling his legs up close to protect himself. He somehow felt safer on the ground, knees pulled to his chest. At least if he was already on the ground, he couldn’t fall again. He was less noticeable, though the humans that already knew he was there still verbally berated him. He shied away from every movement that felt too close. His stress levels were through the roof, the _only_ thing keeping him from completely losing it was the constant reminder of North’s voice saying the broadcast was too important. He couldn’t ruin this for them. No matter how scared, how hurt, he wouldn’t call for Markus.

Hearing that Markus was coming to find him, a choked off sob escaped him as he hid his face against his knees.

_No! You have to stay, Markus, I’m-- This is too important._

But despite his protest, he heard Markus’ voice call his name not too far away, soon followed by another message in his head. He came for him anyway. He just had to find him, and Simon had no idea how to even describe where he’d been to him.

“Markus?” he called out, his voice far more broken than even he had expected. He didn’t even know if he’d been loud enough for Markus to hear him.

* * *

Connor looked thoughtful as he considered the suggestion of sleeping. He did _know_ he could sleep, but he’d never actually tried it.

“Technically, I do know I can sleep. But it always felt counterproductive,” Connor said. “But I did not know I could dream. That seems like a very deviant addition, Elijah,” he smirked, drawing loose patterns across Elijah’s hand as he spoke. “Maybe I'll try it tonight, with you. The idea of waking up together is very appealing.” But as Elijah began to talk about his own work ethic, Connor’s brows tugged into a frown. He quietly listened, and chewed on the inside of his lip until he was done.

“That is an unhealthy work ethic, Elijah,” Connor said, rather hypocritically. “It is compatible with me, because we work in a similar way. But you are _human_, Elijah. To maintain your mental health you must spend more time with other humans.”

He squeezed Elijah’s hand, and Connor’s face tipped slightly as he looked at him. “We are very compatible. We ‘fit’. I love you very much, but the girls and I should not be the only people in your life. I know this is inconvenient to hear, but I'm saying it out of affection, and care.” He fell silent after that, listening to Elijah discuss plans for the new apartment, the hotel he’d booked. He was half tempted to drag Elijah to their room now, but refrained from mentioning anything.

“Will you be able to install the part you made without your home equipment? I thought I'd need to be mounted,” Connor said curiously, looking up at Elijah. “You should purchase a lab computer for the new apartment and network both home systems so your work isn’t interrupted. I can help you with security, if you need my help at all,” Connor offered. He then abruptly straightened and gave Elijah’s hand a squeeze.

“It’s 5:50 pm. What is the apartment address?” he asked, smiling at him. “We should leave now so we aren’t late.”

\------

When Simon called out to Markus, a hush fell over the crowd. People who had been confused or alarmed finally seemed to realise what what happening, and why Markus was in the pit of people at all. Humans were empathetic creatures. Sometimes they grew violent, and they could be selfish and destructive. But their ability to pack bond with _anything_, even something they’d disliked, always stood true.

“He’s over here!” Someone yelled, and the crowd would numbly stumble out of Markus’ way as he pushed towards the voice. “He’s here, Markus!”

There were still angry voices, but they were being hushed by those around them. People picking fights lost their backing. And as Markus found Simon curled in on himself, his face streaked with tears, any remaining hostilities were snuffed as Markus dropped to his knees and gathered Simon into his arms.

_I’ve got you._

Markus buried his face into Simon’s neck and clutched his hand as he interfaced with him. Markus’ relief was palpable, as was his love, but mostly his _worry_.

“I’m here. You’re safe, now. I won’t leave you,” Markus murmured into his ear, soothing a hand down Simon’s spine. He didn’t notice the photos being taken of their embrace. He didn’t notice the film cameras picking up the entire moment. His hand cupped Simon’s face, his cheek pressing against Simon’s cheek.

_You’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you._

* * *

Elijah liked the idea of sleeping with him, both of them falling asleep in each other’s arms and waking each other up in the mornings. It was a change he looked forward to. He wished it was something they could have every night but realistically, he knew it wasn’t possible. He had his own work to do, and as much as he loved Connor and wanted to spend time with him, certain projects required all of his attention and he couldn’t risk half-assing it or being too distracted.

He gave a simple shrug of his shoulders in response to Connor’s comments. “I’m aware. I _do_ have a couple of people I talk to, for human interaction. I don’t talk to them as often as I’d like to, but we do talk from time to time,” he reassured. He could easily take Connor’s words and turn them back on him. They were very much alike, and maybe that was why they clicked so well. “_You_ need to take your own advice, Connor. You need more people in your life than just Lieutenant Anderson, the girls, and me. You need friends too.”

Connor deserved to be happy, and Elijah wasn’t naive enough to think he was all Connor needed. He knew a tight-knit circle of friends was a wonderful asset to have. “I love you too, Connor. You and I… We get along better than anyone else I’ve met.”

When Connor brought up the part, Elijah nodded. “I believe so, yes. I brought my laptop and a few cables. I can either temporarily deactivate you or disable the code before installing any new parts,” he explained, though he was giving Connor the choice to decide if he would rather be unconscious or unable to feel for just a few minutes. “I should be able to, yes. I plan on monitoring you very closely, to make sure it’s safe.”

Learning the time, Elijah took one last, long sip of is coffee before putting it down. He gave him the address, though they didn’t really need it. “It’s across the street,” he told him, getting up from the table. He tossed down a couple of bills on the table, more than enough to cover the coffee and give a generous tip. He tugged Connor to his feet before leading the way back outside and across the street to the apartment building. He had to check his phone messages to make sure he had the right before he led Connor into the elevator, going up to the floor where the agent stood, waiting for them.

“Good morning, Mr. Kamski,” the agent greeted as they approached. He unlocked the door to the apartment and went inside, holding the door open for them. He started rattling off a basic description of the place, highlighting its more positive features. It seemed nice, definitely big enough for the two of them but small enough that the extra space wasn’t very noticeable.

“What do you think?” Elijah asked Connor once they’d had a chance to look around. It was a simple one-bedroom apartment, as were all the others Elijah had set up showings for. The layout was fairly simple and open. Location was the only real thing Elijah was unsure of. Being close to the hospital had its benefits, but he rarely went to the hospital. He figured one of the apartments close by the DPD would be better suited for their needs.

\------

Simon didn’t expect the crowd to react the way it did. It was evident that there were still violent people in the crowd, but the silence among those that seemed to actually care and try to help was a kindness he hadn’t anticipated at all.

He still couldn’t move. He was too afraid, frozen in place. He just wanted Markus. He could hear the movement close by, the sound of someone near and he felt hands on him before he’d even totally considered that this might be Markus. Instinctively, he had tried to push the arms away, but as soon as he heard Markus’ voice, he stopped, completely breaking down with a sob. He shifted his body to face Markus more, his arms coming up to clutch at Markus’ clothes, holding on so tightly.

As the connection formed, Simon contemplated even letting Markus feel any of it, wanting to protect him, but he knew if he had kept anything from Markus, he’d be disappointed. So, he let his emotions and pain flow through their connection, the fear and guilt, worry, and the _pain_ from the attack. His face _still_ stung. Simon’s LED remained bright red, though now that he was in Markus’ arms, he was able to calm down, if only a little. He let out a shaky breath, turning his face to hide against Markus’ neck.

“It _hurts_,” he said, barely even audible. His head hurt enough as it was, but then on top of that, the hit and his fall had been painful too. The fall wasn’t quite so bad, more of a shock than anything, but the assault had been exactly what he’d been so terrified of happening. He’d been so helpless and vulnerable and someone used that to their advantage to hurt him when he couldn’t even see where they’d come from.

* * *

Connor considered the choice Elijah gave him, and it didn’t take him long to decide which he’d prefer. While he’d very much enjoyed the conversations he’d had with Elijah up to his elbows in Thirium, this was completely different. He trusted Elijah. He trusted him as much as he trusted Hank. But he still hated his code being modified, he still hated the idea that it could be altered in a way that was out of his hands. Connor knew this discomfort was trauma. If he were human, he would have tried to seek therapy for it, to mend it. But they weren’t quite at a point just yet where androids had the luxury of psychiatrists.

“I’d prefer to be deactivated temporarily.”

Connor kept his distance as he and Elijah were shown around the apartment. It was a generous space for just the two of them, but not too generous. He looked in drawers, and opened cupboards, the same way he would on a case. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular - they were simply there, and so he opened them.

And it was lucky he did, because the cupboard backing onto the wall shared with the bathroom was crisp with fresh paint, and when Connor touched it, it flaked off to reveal black mold underneath. His mind made up, Connor opened no more drawers or doors after that. And when asked for his opinion, Connor clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“This apartment has toxic mold. We’ll choose a different one,” he said bluntly.

They wandered back towards the precinct, with Connor lifting his collar up against the sudden chilly wind. Their pace was not leisurely this time, with Connor setting a brisk pace - although still slow enough for Elijah to keep up. When they entered their next apartment block, Connor found the foyer empty, and so he opened his heated jacket and pulled Elijah inside of it to warm him up. Connor shivered against him, cold himself, and ducked his face so they were wrapped up in each other.

“_Ohh_, I'm looking forward to winter ending,” Connor hissed, pressing his cold nose beneath Elijah’s ear, and laughing softly when it made him flinch. He kissed the spot a moment later as a wordless apology.

This apartment, Connor liked _immediately_. The building had been built in 2016, and the apartment was newly renovated to gain a higher market value. One entire wall was windows, and the flooring was _real_ wood, not laminate. It gave the apartment a smell that Connor enjoyed. Everything was perfectly practical, and the security on the door was presidential - a combination of electronic and manual locks, so nobody could hack their way inside if they chose to use them.

The wooden floors went all the way into the bedroom, which also had a wall made entirely of windows. And although Connor didn’t mind the actual aesthetics of the place either way, the black cabinets and hardwood did remind Connor of Elijah, even if the floor wasn’t gray.

“I like this one,” Connor said once the agent gave them time alone to look. He stood behind Elijah and tucked his chin onto his shoulder, lightly kissing the back of his ear and winding his hands around Elijah’s waist. He wasn’t concerned about being caught; he’d hear the clack of the agent’s heels before she caught them. “It suits our needs perfectly.”

\------

Markus’ heart _shattered_ in his chest, and he shuffled as close to Simon as he could get as he broke down in his arms. He never should have let Simon down here when he was unstable like this. He should have kept Simon by his side of the stage. This was Markus’ fault. He never should have left him alone. North had been right, to an extent.

Markus _flinched_, releasing a sharp grunt of pain as Simon’s connection opened up. It was always difficult to connect with Simon while he was like this. His emotions were _vicious_, and they were sharper than Markus was used to. Simon felt so much, and every emotion was intense. But when he got like this, Simon’s emotions felt like knives, and they were always pointed inwards, shredding Simon into splinters.

“I know, I felt it,” Markus murmured, and part of it softly echoed through his mic. He pulled back a little so he could touch the offending cheek, shuffling even closer. His fingers slid up, combing into Simon’s hair. Through their connection, Markus pushed back as hard as he could with thoughts of safety. He had Simon, he wasn’t going anywhere, but he needed him to calm down.

“My water bottle froze on the way here,” Said a voice to Markus’ left, and as Markus looked up at them utterly perplexed to see a young man with a bottle outstretched, he isn’t at all sure how to receive him. “I thought ice for his face might help. He got hit pretty hard.”

“Thank you? _Very_ much,” Markus said, still a little in shock from the help, and shifted so he could accept the bottle. It was about halfway frozen, and Markus took the time to carefully tilt Simon’s jaw before pressing the bottle against his cheek.

“Don’t focus on the pain, or your eyes. Just focus on me, on my hands, on our connection,” Markus said gently, pressing Simon’s hand against the bottle to hold it there, and then tucking Simon’s hair out of his face once his hand was free. He let his touch roam across his cheeks, down his neck, and into his nape, curling softly into his hair. “We don’t have to go anywhere until you feel that you can. You don’t have to let go of my hand until you want to.”

He gathered Simon closer as he spoke, and rested his forehead against his.

* * *

Elijah thought Connor might prefer the deactivation. He knew how he felt about his code being tampered with, and while Elijah knew Connor trusted him, he also knew Connor hadn't wanted the code uninstalled before. He wasn't at all surprised that he wanted to keep it now too. Temporary deactivation was fine. It wasn't dangerous as long as it was done correctly and not forced. He wouldn't even be deactivated for long. All he needed to do was install the parts and check the code to make sure it adapted to the installation as he expected, then he would be able to reactivate him.

Hearing that Connor had somehow found mold was concerning and more than enough for him to cross that apartment off the list. One down, three to go. There were two near the DPD and one closer to CyberLife.

Leaving the apartment gave them more than enough time to walk back towards the DPD for the next showing Elijah had scheduled. He was thankful for Connor’s embrace once they were inside the foyer, slipping his hands inside the jacket to wrap around Connor’s waist to warm up. Connor’s cold nose against his skin in such a sensitive place made him flinch, a shiver running up his spine.

“The snow will likely stick around for a couple more months. I doubt it’s going anywhere anytime soon,” Elijah said with a chuckle, kissing Connor’s cheek before he pulled back.

They met their agent outside of the next apartment and followed her inside. Elijah particularly liked this one, he remembered, when he was looking through the photos online. It reminded him of his house in some ways. This time, he made sure to look inside cabinets and closets too, inspecting everything a little more thoroughly, but by the time they’d both explored the entire place, he hadn’t found anything concerning.

As Connor came up behind him, he slid his hand over Connor’s, letting out a content sigh. “I agree,” he said softly, turning to press a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Do you want to look at the others? There are two more, one nearby and one closer to CyberLife, but if you like this one, we should buy it before someone else does.”

\------

As Markus’ fingers came in contact with Simon’s cheek, he flinched, but he didn’t shy away. He knew Markus wouldn’t intentionally hurt him. He knew he wasn’t going to leave him, he was safe now, but the fear still lingered. He couldn’t calm down just yet, though since Markus found him, his stress levels definitely decreased substantially.

Simon heard the voice nearby, offering his water bottle. He _knew_ it would be cold, and he tried to prepare himself for it, but he still hissed at the burn of ice on skin. He held it in place once Markus brought his hand up to it, and the pain _did_ start to subside.

He made an attempt to do as he was told, his eyes closing as he tried to block out the pain. It was easy to focus on Markus’ touch, feeling his fingers in his hair. He let out a shaky breath, and simply sat there for a while, his attention focused on Markus. He didn’t move from the position they were in, practically in Markus’ lap, forehead pressed against his, one hand clutching Markus’ and the other holding onto Markus’ shirt like it was his lifeline. It took what felt like an eternity, but his nerves had finally died down enough that he could actually think. His head still ached, but the pain in his cheek had died down, thanks to the ice.

“I-- I think I’m okay…” he finally said, his voice still barely above a whisper. He wanted to get up off the floor, away from the crowd. He didn’t care if they stayed to continue the broadcast, but he wanted to get away from the crowd, where he could feel safer. He had no intention of letting go of Markus’ hand though, not quite willing to break the connection just yet.

* * *

Connor tilted his face into Elijah, and fractionally leant his weight against him. He felt happy, in a different way than he had before. A bone-deep contentedness ran through him, a peace that grounded Connor where he stood.

“No, I'm satisfied with this apartment,” Connor said, not bothering to offer to see more if that was what Elijah wanted. He didn’t need to scan him to see that he was satisfied, too.

And for the first time, Connor felt himself experience material attachment. It felt similar to the first time he’d been woken up and given his name - something that was _his_, that was important to him. Similarly, _this_ was important to him.

This was home. He belonged here. He was in love. He was going to share a beautiful home with a brilliant man. And they had three nights all to themselves.

Connor didn’t kiss up Elijah’s neck. Instead, he became very still, his lips and nose tucked up behind Elijah’s ear and his eyes pressed closed. His hands tightened around Elijah’s middle, and he allowed himself to _feel_. Emotion ripped through Connor in waves, all of it positive, and all of it happy.

He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Elijah’s neck when he’d pulled himself together again, and shifted to stand in front of him.

“Do you want dinner before we shop for furniture? Or do you want to order food in?”

\------

In the time it took Simon to regain some composure, a buzz filled the room. Humans in the crowd talked amongst themselves, and so did the press. It wasn’t a violent noise, simply one made by many people in the same place. He could hear security lecturing the crowd, and he could hear questions about what was going to happen next being asked from the press.

But this was not Markus’ first time dealing with Simon’s panic attacks. And so when Simon announced he was okay, only to still be wearing a red LED, and frosted eyes, he knew not to fuss, and he knew to bottle his concern and store it far from their connection. They only ever made Simon feel worse, and sometimes guilty once he’d recovered.

Markus pulled away slowly from Simon, and the furthest they separated was for Markus to get his feet under him. As he rose to his feet, Markus pulled Simon with him. He knew not to make a fuss. He knew that making a big deal out of the panic triggered a particular self-loathing in Simon. He _also_ knew that halting the questions, proving North right, would result in another spiral later.

Simon hated to be a burden. He hated taking anything from anyone, especially their time. And so he cupped Simon’s face, and chastely kissed him - What did it matter what the humans saw if they’d witnessed all the rest?

Pulling back, he gave a gentle tug to Simon’s hand, and began to lead him back through the crowd.

“We can answer questions about our people together,” Markus said, allowing himself to be audible and therefore picked up by the mic. “You should have been there from the start.”

Now that the moment was over, _sharp_ nerves cut through Markus. He hoped they wouldn’t attack Simon for what happened. He hoped that the empathy he’d experienced in the crowd was reflected in their wording. He helped Simon climb the stairs back onto the stage, and led him shamelessly back to the podium by his hand.

“Thank you for your patience,” Markus said as he looked down at the reporters and journalists below him, and squeezed Simon’s hand. “In order to avoid any more conflict, I will only be taking questions from the press. Who was next?”

* * *

If Connor was happy with the apartment, Elijah was ready to buy it. The location was perfect for Connor, they both liked it, so he didn’t see much else needing to be done other than sign and hand over the money. He let out a happy sigh as Connor’s arms tightened around him. When Connor moved to stand in front of him, Elijah closed the gap between them to press a kiss to his lips, chaste and short before he stepped back.

“Let’s order in tonight,” he replied without much thought. He knew he wanted to spend time alone with Connor now. They’d been in public the entire time, and he was getting tired of having to hold back for privacy’s sake. “Let me finalize everything with our agent, then we can go look for some furniture. Once we’re done there, we can get take out and either come back here or go to the hotel for the night. What do you think?”

He was excited. He was really looking forward to having the place set up for them, so they could spend the following two days doing absolutely whatever they wanted, uninterrupted. Connor could cook for him, if he really wanted to, they could sit around and talk, kiss, touch, anything.

“Do you like it, Mr. Kamski?” the agent asked upon entering the room again.

“I do. I don’t think we need to see the others.”

“Excellent! If you’re ready, we can get the paperwork started,” she said with a wide smile. Elijah followed her over to the bar where she started arranging all of the paperwork. He filled out the forms, signed where he had to, and before long, he wrote up a check and she handed him the keys. “Enjoy your new home!” she told him before excusing herself, leaving Elijah and Connor alone.

Elijah made his way back over to Connor, reaching out to wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him flush against him. “I love you,” he said softly before leaning in for a kiss, this one long and deep. He lingered once he broke away to breathe, pressing small kisses along his jaw before letting him go completely. “Let’s go. The sooner we find furniture and pick up dinner, the sooner we can be alone for the night.”

\------

It was easier to keep calm when the crowd around them only buzzed with activity, rather than roared. Once he’d got a handle on his nerves and managed to calm down enough, he was able to think more rationally. He didn’t panic when Markus stood, keeping a firm grip on his hand. Simon got to his feet with Markus’ help, using his now free hand to dust himself off.

Simon followed Markus, letting himself be led. He fell into step just one step behind him, so Markus could better guide him. It was something that had become quite easy for them over time, through practice.

If he was honest, he was a little embarrassed to be put in front of the camera, especially when his eyesight had failed him, but he was relieved to be staying with Markus this time. He would help when he was asked, but he was still anxious. He never quite calmed down completely when his eyesight glitched out.

The stairs gave him little trouble, luckily, and soon they were back at the podium, Simon assumed, when Markus addressed the press again. His LED still shined bright red and his eyes were still hazy, but he felt much calmer now than he had even with his eyesight just moments before.

Now that the press had the opportunity to resume their questions, their questions centered on Simon and his relationship with Markus, rather than android kind as a whole.

“Who is Simon to you?” one journalist asked.

“Is he the one you referred to in your previous answer? About loving someone?” another asked.

“Is he okay? What happened?” yet another journalist asked with genuine concern.

* * *

As the paperwork was being signed, Connor took the time to wander around the apartment again. He looked in drawers he hadn’t opened last time, opened cupboards, turned on taps. In a few short moments, it would be theirs. And as Connor re-entered rooms, he took the time to measure the space and height in each with a cursory glance. He looked at the apartment in _detail_, counting power outlets, noting scratches, listing the make and model of everything in case it needed repairs down the line. It was, in a strange way, Connor’s equivalent of running his hands over everything. But instead, he’d know if the sofa Elijah wanted would fit in the space or not.

Connor smiled into the kiss, running a hand up the back of Elijah’s neck and squeezing. It was still exhilarating, being kissed, and Connor’s face turned into the kisses peppered along his jaw.

“I love you, too,” Connor murmured, running his fingers down Elijah’s chest, before taking his hand.

It was dark out, and the temperature had dropped even further. As such, Connor was glad Elijah had driven, as it got them out of it faster than waiting for a cab would have. The stores they went to were _expensive_, and even Connor noticed the hike in price. While Connor thought of himself with no taste, the trip revealed the opposite - that he did have taste, and it was _terrible_. He went for things with interesting textures or angles, which resulted in Connor enjoying a wingback armchair made of faux fur, and a coffee table lined in velvet. They compromised, with a fur rug and velvet cushions, and Connor was pleased to meet him halfway.

Connor also proved himself to be an incredibly practical, utilitarian shopper. He either liked something, or he didn’t, and if he didn’t it was because it didn’t fit in the space, or because he thought the ergonomics were poor.

They found everything they needed in three stores, and Connor found himself quietly impatient by the end. He was very quick to lead the way out when Elijah finished paying.

“You said you booked a hotel?” Connor asked, hitting the elevator down to take them to the basement garage. “Why not order room service instead of making another stop?”

\------

Markus’ brows creased with concern when the press’ attention focused on Simon, instead of their people as a whole. He supposed after the scene which had just unfolded it was only natural to feel curious. And Markus _also_ noticed how… humanising the questions were. They were seeing Simon as a person.

Simon wasn’t in any condition to answer _any_ questions. But it felt wrong to talk about Simon with him standing right there - he felt as though he should let Simon speak for himself.

“Simon is…” Markus’ jaw shook as he tried to think of the correct term. They hadn’t officiated anything; they’d had sex in the car, and been practically inseparable ever since. ‘Boyfriend’ was too juvenile. It didn’t fit what they were. ‘Lover’ wasn’t appropriate, either.

“Yes, he was the person I was referring to,” Markus answered the easier question first, before lifting his chin slightly. “He is my other half. He is my partner.”

Nervous jitters shot through Markus’ connection to Simon, but he didn’t give them away outwardly.

_Is that okay? To call you that?_

But at the question about what had happened to Simon, Markus’ expression cracked, his emotion tangible as he looked over the press. Very deliberately, Markus used only human anatomical descriptions as he began to explain.

“Simon was injured during our fight for freedom. His eyes were damaged, and sometimes during stressful moments, he loses his vision and becomes blind. This causes a panic attack, which is what you all witnessed,” Markus explained.

Some more questions rang out, prying further into Simon’s health, which Markus avoided.

“Simon!” Someone called out. “How did you and Markus meet? Was it love at first sight?”

“How does it feel to be with the leader of Jericho?”

“Are there marriage plans?”

“Simon!”

“When did you fall in love?”

Markus glanced at him, his gaze fixed worriedly on Simon’s LED.

_You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to. Are you okay to answer?_

* * *

It was amusing to shop with Connor, Elijah had learned. His taste in furniture was interesting, and not quite what Elijah would have picked for the space, but if Connor liked it, he was more than willing to compromise. By the time they left the final store, they’d found furniture for the entire apartment along with decor, and Elijah had made sure to have a second key made for Connor, before they finished their shopping.

Elijah had scheduled for everything to be delivered in the morning, and he couldn’t wait. He figured they would sleep at the hotel, then go to the apartment before everything was delivered so they could set everything up and spend the rest of the day inside.

As they rode the elevator down to the garage, Elijah fished his keys out of his pocket. “We could. I’m not sure I feel like going anywhere else anyway,” he replied, leading the way over to the car once the elevator opened up. It had been a _long_ day and he just wanted to get inside, take off his shoes, and unwind. He had more than enough socializing for the day.

The drive from the furniture store to the hotel wasn’t long, and Elijah held Connor’s hand most of the way. When they made it to the hotel, Elijah led him down the hall to the room he booked, swiping the key card to get inside. He flicked on the lights and toed off his shoes just inside the door, waiting until Connor was inside the room and the door was closed behind him to reach behind him, turning the locks. With very little space between them, Elijah pushed him back against the door almost as soon as the last lock clicked. He kissed him with a desperation he hadn’t shown at all until now, only breaking away when he needed to breathe.

“We’re finally alone,” he said almost breathlessly. “Today was exhausting, though I did have fun. Did you?”

\------

Simon wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the press asking questions about him. He didn’t feel like he could answer on his own. Not at the moment. In any other situation, he could easily speak for himself. He could easily stand up for himself too, but when he was blind and panicking? He needed Markus’ help until he felt comfortable enough again. Even though he was more relaxed now, Markus was still his security blanket. Once his eyesight came back, which he was sure it would soon, he could hopefully recover completely.

He listened as Markus answered their questions, the hesitation, as he tried to search for the right words, was evident enough to Simon that he was sure the press noticed too. He gave Markus’ hand a squeeze, his face lighting up with a smile at the answer Markus gave.

_It’s perfect, Markus._

Simon couldn’t have said it better himself. Markus truly was his other half. He was lost without him. He’d been lost before him, and when Markus literally fell into their lives, his life had changed for the better. Sure, there were difficult times, challenges to overcome, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite as happy as he was with Markus.

As Markus explained what had happened to him, the near-constant pain in his head started to subside, fragments of his vision starting to clear up. The haziness in his eyes faded, his eyes slowly becoming clearer for both himself and for others. Soon, the glitching stopped completely and the pain just behind his eyes was gone with it. His LED finally cycled from red to yellow, flickering as he thought about the questions being asked. He considered asking Markus to keep answering for him, but the questions were so clearly directed _at_ him, not just _about_ him now that he felt obligated to answer.

_I’m okay now. I want to. Things are normal again._

They had so many questions, and none of them were too personal, really. He didn’t mind indulging them. “We met in Jericho,” he answered, though instead of looking out at the crowd, he watched Markus. He still held his hand, even though he could see again. He loved holding his hand, and if he didn’t have to let go, he didn’t plan to. “It was early November. He found us and took charge when we really needed a real leader. Our people were hurt and dying, and I couldn’t help them. But Markus had plans, he helped us in ways I couldn’t. He saved us.”

Simon kept his eyes on Markus, looking down at their joined hands. “I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight. Not completely. It was just the start. I fell more in love with him each time he did something for our people, showed how much he cared for us… And for me.” He felt the need to kiss him, but he refrained, unsure how it would be received by both the press and Markus. “Markus is so much more than the leader of Jericho. He’s… He’s the kindest man I’ve ever met. He is so caring and gentle and patient. I’m incredibly lucky.”

Marriage wasn’t something he’d ever considered a possibility before. “I don’t think there will be any marriage plans any time soon,” he said honestly, though he was hopeful that maybe, in the future… “Markus didn’t know how I felt until just a couple days ago. We haven’t talked about it yet.” But it was definitely something he hoped for, one day.

* * *

There was a comfortable silence as Connor rode in the car beside Elijah. It was different from the comfortable silences he experienced as Hank’s passenger. For starters, there was no black metal playing through the speakers. The radio was simply a background hum. Secondly, Elijah _obeyed the road rules_, which was a very welcomed change.

Connor’s mind was on the part Elijah had made for him. Obviously, the entire point of it was for pleasure. But what about beyond that? If he were human, this would be a major surgery. It was an entire piece of anatomy he’d never had to think about before. His hips were being all but replaced, and so he wondered - would he walk differently? And if he did, would people notice?

There was a stigma surrounding androids and humans sharing sexual relations, and Connor wasn’t stupid enough to think a stigma like that had shifted with just a few weeks of the revolution. He would usually be happy to discuss any of his systems with anybody. But on the spot, Connor decided this one was strictly between himself and Elijah.

Connor didn’t seem to notice how grand or luxurious Elijah’s hotel was, and trailed behind, idly fiddling with his own fingers as he did. He had barely a moment to scan the room once they’d entered before Elijah had pinned him against the door, just like he had in Elijah’s bedroom. But there was no worry of being seen or overheard this time. There were no interruptions lurking on the horizon, nobody but just the two of them for the next two days.

Connor gathered Elijah close, and the hand on the small of his back threatened to lift Elijah to the tips of his toes. A small, frustrated noise left Connor’s throat when Elijah had to pull away, but his gaze was steady as he listened to him talk.

It had been a very long day. A very long, very _good_ day. He wasn’t particularly interested in making small talk about it, and so he slowly, purposefully, trailed his fingers into Elijah’s hair and to the back of his head… and abruptly flipped their positions, using his body to pin Elijah against the door.

“_Yes_,” he said, blunt and direct, with just a slight intonation in his voice. As though the answer were obvious, and the question a little silly…

Connor hooked his first three fingers beneath Elijah’s jaw, and tilted his chin up. Having been torn away from Elijah prematurely, and with a lot of free time on his hands after Hank went to bed, Connor hadn’t been quite able to stop himself from prying into what might feel good. He kissed up, under Elijah’s jaw, and opened his mouth once he hit the muscle beneath Elijah’s ear. Instead of simply biting as he had been before, he sucked first, tipping Elijah’s chin up further as he thoroughly marked the skin with a roll of teeth and tongue.

“It’s late, and you haven’t eaten,” Connor said in Elijah’s ear, pressing him a little harder against the door. He still had Elijah’s chin lifted, and his lips trailed along his throat as he continued to talk. “If you don’t eat soon, or continue to exert yourself,” he nipped just below his Adam’s apple, “You risk your blood sugar dropping.”

\------

Just as Simon watched Markus, so too were Markus’ eyes glued to Simon. He knew all of this. He knew this was how Simon felt about him. But hearing Simon talk about him had Markus slowly melt. His chest burned a little, and if Markus were to describe it, he might have said he couldn’t breathe. It wrote itself like an open book across Markus’ expression, until the topic of marriage came up, and he suddenly couldn’t meet Simon’s eye. He agreed with Simon. There would be no marriage plans any time soon, they’d only just gotten together. But he also didn’t dismiss it as an idea for the future.

“Maybe one day, but not right now,” Markus added, his expression still soft as he looked back to the press.

“CyberLife programmed androids to act human. How do we know this isn’t just an act? Can you _prove_ that you’re really ‘alive’ like you claim to be?” There was a pissed off murmur from that reporter’s colleagues, who threw his hands up as though to say, _well one of us had to ask it_.

Markus let out a _very_ long sigh, and his annoyance flicked through the bond to Simon.

“With all due respect, sir, can _you_ prove that you’re alive?” Markus asked. “Do I need to grieve a loved one before you’ll believe my emotions and thoughts are mine? Do you need to see me in pain? You don’t strike me as an unempathetic man, sir. Just look around you. _Listen_ to the things my people are saying.”

“Simon! What would you say to people who think Deviancy is a scam?” and then swiftly, a moment later, “Simon! What do you say to people who own companion androids such as the WR series? Would you say they share a relationship like you and Markus?”

Markus’ eyes flicked to the floor, and his body tensed. More than anything else, he wished that hadn’t been asked with North in the room.

* * *

The hotel Elijah had chosen wasn’t extremely luxurious by any means. He didn’t particularly care how nice it was, he just needed somewhere comfortable to stay a night. He did go for one of their higher-end rooms, worth more with better features, but it wasn’t necessarily the best the hotel offered. As long as it had a bathroom and a bed, he was content.

The brief small talk he’d initiated didn’t last long and he hadn’t expected it to. He didn’t really _want_ it to make small talk, despite initiating it. When Connor flipped their positions so abruptly, he’d almost been startled, a gasp of surprise leaving him though he made no complaints. The change in position was welcomed and if he was honest, he was surprised. Connor didn’t have any experience outside of what little they’d done, yet the way he moved now wasn’t with inexperience. If anything, he seemed fairly confident, and Elijah _liked_ it.

Within seconds of Connor’s mouth against his skin, Elijah was already breathless. Soft noises escaped him as Connor worked on his skin, and Elijah let his head fall back against the door with a quiet thunk. He _knew_ there would be marks left behind, showing anyone that looked close enough that he was off the market. He was pleasantly surprised, but he didn’t bother asking Connor about any of it just yet. He was more than happy to bask in the attention for now.

A shudder ran through him as Connor whispered into his ear, his eyes slipping closed to allow himself to focus on the things Connor was doing. One of his hands slid up the back of Connor’s neck and into his hair while the other held onto his shoulder, his grip tightening the more Connor did.

Elijah let out a groan as he was pressed back against the door further, left with very little wiggle room between the door and Connor. He knew he still hadn’t had anything to eat yet, but at the moment, he hardly cared. Connor likely didn’t either. Not really, anyway, because if he did care, he wouldn’t actively torment Elijah. All he did was make him want him more, very quickly growing more desperate.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured, his voice sounding much more wrecked than he had anticipated. Really, he’d gone longer without eating before, he would be fine. He didn’t particularly care to stop what they were doing in order to call room service anyway. Almost experimentally and with a soft moan, Elijah rolled his hips against Connor’s, his eyes half-lidded to watch his reactions. The hand in Connor’s hair and the one on his shoulder tightened their grip, but didn’t quite do much else just yet.

“Looks like you’ve done some research,” he commented, a smile playing on his lips. He absolutely didn’t mind. Initially, he’d thought he would rather Connor learn as things progressed, but he was very quickly learning that he liked when Connor took charge. He’d have to provoke him into it more often.

\------

To hear Markus agree - one day, but not now - made Simon smile so genuinely wide. He wished he would have just told Markus how he felt sooner, but things seemed to work out just fine. He gave Markus’ hand a squeeze, resisting the urge to bring it to his lips.

Simon only partly paid attention to the questions being asked, more so focused on Markus. Though when he heard his name, the press had his attention again. The first question was harmless enough, though it would require a decent answer, but the second one made him uncomfortable. He had to carefully consider his answer for a moment before he dared to answer.

“No. People who _use_ androids, regardless of their specialty, can’t even come close to having what Markus and I have. Humans and androids _can_ have a relationship like what we have, I’ve seen it, but so many androids have been abused, especially companion androids. Some may have relationships with humans, but I know a few who are against it. I won’t talk about companion androids any more than that,” Simon replied, hoping maybe that would be enough of an answer for them, at least in regards to the WR series. He knew North was listening, and while he didn’t know her past, he had suspicions. He didn’t want to make her listen to the press pry into the lives of those like her.

“As for those who think deviancy is a scam… Open your eyes. Spend time with one of us. We aren’t different. We don’t bleed the same color, but we feel the same things. We just want to be understood.” And honestly, if anyone still believed they were faking anything after seeing one of his panic attacks, they must be blind or incredibly ignorant. He shared Markus’ annoyance. How could they _not_ see they were the same? How many blatant displays of human emotion was it going to take to convince them?

* * *

Each little sound Connor elicited from Elijah was a reward. He was such a composed man, unflappable, that discovering the cracks and pulling them apart came with so much satisfaction. Connor shivered at the hand in his hair, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it, or how it tightened incrementally. And by far, the biggest reward of all, was hearing Elijah’s composure slip completely with the raggedness of his voice.

Piece by piece, Connor memorised what made Elijah fall apart quickest, without quite realising that he was doing it. He had made an _art_ out of picking criminals apart. Finding out what made Elijah tick was surprisingly similar.

But he didn’t expect Elijah’s hips to roll against his, and he certainly didn’t expect it to feel _so good_. Connor sucked in a sharp imitation of a breath through his nose, which was exhaled as a strangled moan. One of Connor’s arms braced against the door beside Elijah’s head, and he huffed out a shaky laugh.

“Just a little bit. I wanted you to feel good,” Connor said against Elijah’s shoulder, leaving slow, trailing kisses up his neck. Connor rolled his own hips in an imitation of what Elijah had done, and his LED flicked to yellow as he whined softly against Elijah’s jaw. He didn’t think he’d have much sensation there, if any at all, until Elijah had installed the new part. They’d been wrong.

He ground again, gasping against Elijah’s ear, and lipping at the ring in Elijah’s left helix.

“But I want to learn what _you_ enjoy,” Connor said quietly, immensely smug that he managed to keep his voice from wavering. But just barely. “I want you to teach me how to use my mouth,” he said into Elijah’s ear. He then kissed down Elijah’s jaw, before kissing his lips, and it was Connor’s turn to be desperate. One of his hands snaked to Elijah’s hips, gripping it to steady him. He could feel Elijah’s arousal every time he bucked up, and when they had to part so Elijah could breathe, Connor shuddered into Elijah’s neck.

“This is shameless,” Connor breathed, and his voice was most certainly not even this time. “Elijah, we haven’t even entered the room properly,” he laughed weakly, reaching between them to unbutton the fly of Elijah’s pants.

Connor sucked at a spot at the junction between Elijah’s neck and shoulder while at the same time pushing Elijah’s pants and underwear out of the way. Elijah’s pants fell to his ankles as Connor’s hand wrapped around him, and ruthlessly set the same pace he’d made in Elijah’s bedroom.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I was forced to leave.”

\------

Markus watched Simon speak with _burning_ pride. He’d taken a question that had been awful, and answered it so succinctly, without hesitation, and without rudeness. Markus wasn’t sure he could have done the same. He also hadn’t thought to publicly state what he would and wouldn’t answer, and tucked that away in the back of his mind for later. Simon was such a natural leader, whether he thought he was good at it or not. He had strong ideals, but wasn’t opposed to accepting new ones and modifying his own. The well being of their people was always at the front of his mind, and it shone through in the honest way he answered.

Despite their annoyance, he and Markus stood at the podium until their two hours were up. Markus answered as best he could, about the military, about security, about integration, and he reiterated his demands from Stratford Tower. But questions for Simon continuously popped up, too. And Markus noticed, some of the journalists seemed to be building a report on _them_, not their people.

It was a relief to finish. People from the crowd yelled questions, but quietly, Markus had enough of humans for one day. They were led into a backroom, as were Josh and North, who were left to their own devices as someone picked the mics off Markus’ coat. Subtly, Markus sent out a small EMP, dusting down his coat as he did it, paranoid they’d left a tracking or listening bug on him.

The second the last human left, Markus deflated with exhaustion. He felt emotionally stripped bare, not all of the questions had been easy.

“I think we’re starting to get through to them,” Markus said.

“No thanks to Simon. The humans calmed down when they saw what they’d done to him. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Are you okay, Simon?” Josh asked, looking worried.

* * *

Connor’s sharp inhale when Elijah rolled his hips against him had been a surprise. Elijah wasn’t sure he’d be sensitive in that region, but it seemed he was wrong. It was definitely a pleasant surprise and something he planned to use to his advantage, at least until they had the chance to install the part he brought along.

“I feel _very_ good,” Elijah replied, letting his head fall to the side to give Connor more open access to his neck. A groan escaped his lips as Connor ground his hips in return. He bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to muffle his sounds, at least while they were against the door. He couldn’t believe how easy it seemed to be for Connor to make him fall apart. Just a touch or a kiss was all it really took. Connor didn’t even have to try.

Another shudder rolled through him with the attention Connor gave his ear. It was almost unfair how desperate Connor had made him already, how sensitive he was, and yet Connor seemed so unaffected. The hand on Connor’s shoulder slipped lower, ghosting across his chest, intentionally grazing over his nipple through his shirt on the way down. Elijah had been about to comment, tell him it was pretty clear he already knew how to use his mouth, but he was very soon engulfed in a kiss, one that reflected his own desperation and he let himself melt into it, his hand gripping onto Connor’s shirt.

Hearing how ragged Connor’s own voice was when he spoke again made Elijah feel a little better about himself. He let out a breathless chuckle, letting go of Connor’s hair to grab the hem of his shirt, to pull it up and off. It was only fair that Connor lose a piece of clothing too. But as soon as Connor’s hand wrapped around him, he inhaled sharply, his hands grabbing back onto Connor’s shoulders to help keep himself upright.

“Neither have I,” Elijah breathed out, barely above a whisper. He had to will himself to stay still, not very confident that his legs wouldn’t give out if he attempted to move. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

The pace Connor set with his hand was ruthless and unfaltering and Elijah was very quickly breaking, his breathing heavy and ragged, soft moans tumbling from his lips with each stroke.

\------

Simon truly didn’t mind the questions being thrown his way. He answered each of them honestly, to the best of his ability, and supported Markus through his own answers. All things considered, the event could have gone much, much worse than it did. In fact, it may have gone better than anticipated _because_ of what resulted from the chaos.

By the time the event was over, Simon followed Markus into the backroom. He stayed by his side, quietly holding his hand and waited for the humans to leave before he really let himself relax. He brought Markus’ hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

“They need to see us. We can’t really expect them to believe that we can feel if we never show them we can,” Simon replied softly. They did make progress though. The crowd had seemed curious, towards the end. The press had some very good questions too, and they seemed to mostly be in support, with the occasional few outliers.

Simon sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, nodding to Josh’s question. “Yeah. I’m okay now,” he assured, giving them a small smile. “Did anyone get hurt? It sounded bad…” He didn’t _think_ any ambulances had to be called, but without his sight, he hadn’t really noticed if anyone had to be rushed out or not. He hoped everyone was alright.

* * *

Connor noticed the way Elijah had begun to slip. He noticed how he couldn’t hold his own weight up, how he was starting to collapse, and it was an _incredible_ boost to Connor’s ego. Elijah was falling apart in his arms, and that in itself was enough for Connor. He decided he liked doing this while they were standing. The effort of remaining upright meant that every loss of control was on sharp display, and couldn’t be sunken into a mattress.

This was a side of Elijah nobody else saw. This view of him was Connor’s, _nobody else's_. Elijah was beautiful drenched in pleasure, his expression cracked and desperate. And the sounds he made, those uncontrolled moans, were _so_ incredibly attractive.

Connor pressed Elijah flush to the door, mostly to keep him upright. And while he very much wanted to have his other hand roaming beneath Elijah’s shirt, it was instead braced against Elijah’s spine.

“I love you so much,” Connor whispered, kissing Elijah’s throat. He could feel how his muscles were tense and gathered up, he could see his ragged breathing, and feel the way his heart pounded like a jackrabbit. “I’ll catch you, Elijah. Let go.”

Connor wasn’t particularly concerned about his own orgasm, content to simply bask in Elijah’s. It wasn’t like before. They had time, and with the part Elijah had brought for him, he knew he’d be receiving his fair share of attention _very_ soon.

\------

Josh shook his head, opening his mouth to likely voice the denial, when North spoke over him.

“It’s poetic, isn’t it?” she said, loud enough for them all to hear but directed, specifically, at Markus. “What happened to Simon was the human’s fault, and now? It’s come back to bite them in the ass. They feel empathy for their own cruelty!”

“Their empathy is welcomed. It wasn’t them at Stratford Tower. They aren’t to blame,” Markus frowned, and he could _see_ the look of derision on North’s face as she considered arguing, only to drop it with a turn of her head.

They didn’t wait around. Markus wasn’t keen on being there if a riot broke out, not with Simon how he was, and he certainly didn’t want to cause one for simply being there. The four of them lipped from the building before they could be properly sent away, and walked back streets to the train station. He was forced to let go of Simon’s hand while he organised tickets for them all, but he wasn’t alone for long.

“Marriage, huh?” Josh said, grinning at Simon. “I saw your grin. I _saw your grin_. You’re his other half,” it was all teasing, but it was all good-natured, too.

* * *

Elijah appreciated the support Connor provided just by wedging him between the door and himself. He was too wound up to quite relax, but at least he didn’t have to struggle to keep himself on his feet. He slid one arm around Connor to hold onto his shoulder, so he could get better leverage. His other hand returned to Connor’s hair, tangling his fingers in it.

Using the hand in his hair, Elijah guided Connor up for a kiss, gasping and moaning into it. His hips rocked forward and his nails dug into Connor’s shoulder as he grew closer to the edge.

“I love you too,” he panted when he had to break away to air, resting his forehead against Connor’s. He went back in for another kiss, muffling all of his little sounds, gasps and moans. The movement of his hips faltered and his head fell back against the door, eyes closed and mouth open as he came, his legs trembling from the force of it.

Elijah opened his eyes only part way to look at Connor from where his head had fallen back against the door, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re too good to me,” he said softly, the hand in Connor’s hair carding through it instead of holding on for dear life as it had been previously. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

He couldn’t wait to install the part and show Connor just how amazing he made him feel. He deserved it, and there was only so much he could do without the part, although finding out he _was_ sensitive there without it was a nice piece of information.

\------

Simon sighed and shook his head at North’s words. “What happened to me was nobody’s fault. Not the humans’, not Markus’, and not Connor’s. I don’t blame anyone for what happened, and no one else should either.”

When they left, Simon kept hold of Markus’ hand until he had to let go after they made it to the station. He slid his hands into his pockets, staying back with Josh while Markus arranged for them to return home. It had been a long, stressful day and he couldn’t wait to get home and relax. He idly rubbed at his cheek where he’d been hit, though it didn’t really hurt anymore. Maybe a little sore, but it only hurt if he touched it or thought about what happened.

Hearing Josh’s teasing, Simon glanced over, unable to help the grin that quickly returned to his face at the mention of marriage. He also couldn’t help the slight blush that crept in too. “One day,” he said, watching Markus from where they stood. “I’d like to marry him one day. It’s too soon right now, but if he asked, I wouldn’t say no.”

But he knew that was what he wanted, to marry Markus. He loved him with everything he had, and he knew that would never change. In is entire existence, he’d never felt this way about _anyone_ else. The only thing that compared had been his undying love for Max, and even then, what he felt for Markus was _so_ different.

“I would do anything for him,” Simon added, still watching Markus from a distance. “I love him.”

* * *

Just as he promised, Connor caught Elijah as he fell apart in his arms. It was just as good as last time to witness, just as raw and beautiful, and he cried out when Elijah pulled his hair so hard it burnt. But it was a good pain, and he didn’t mind it at all.

He’d melted into the kisses, swallowing each moan and gasp and whimper. He’d groaned as Elijah’s hips became a staccato, and looked on breathlessly as Elijah’s orgasm wracked through his body. He would never get tired of watching him like this.

Connor’s hand was ruined, and so were his and Elijah’s clothes. But the latter was a problem for later, and Connor smiled happily at the words Elijah said. Closing his hand around the mess so it wouldn’t spread, Connor bent down and scooped Elijah’s legs out from under him. He kissed Elijah as he straightened, carrying him towards the bed in Elijah’s half-dressed state. He put him down on top of the duvet, and turned to pick up a tissue box before crawling in next to him.

“I love watching you fall apart. You’re truly quite beautiful during sex,” Connor said as he plucked a tissue out, and began cleaning his hand. “Do you mind the term ‘beautiful’? It’s culturally feminine, but I think it still applies. You _are_ beautiful when you orgasm. But generally, I'd say you were handsome.”

\------

North stood nearby Simon and Josh, her weight resting on one leg as she listened to them. Simon had always given everything to their people. She would _never_ forget the warm welcome she received from him when she’d discovered Jericho. The first warm, friendly reception she’d ever had which didn’t come with a hand outstretched for her services. Simon was the first to _ever_ treat her like a person. He deserved to have someone love him the way Markus always had.

But it didn’t stop her from being quietly envious. She could be happy for them, while simultaneously wishing that she could have the same. She could be supportive, couldn’t she? Even if every declaration of love dug under her skin, and made her want to yell. All she wanted was the same.

The train station was mostly empty, and so North didn’t feel the need to watch Markus’ every move. Her attention, instead, flicked to Simon, and she walked over to him wearing a soft frown.

“Who were you talking about when you said you knew of androids and humans being in love?” She asked. “You don’t know any humans.”

But as Markus waited for the four tickets to dispense, he ended up with his face tilted, and a smile pressing his cheeks.

**TO:** RK200 // Markus // #684 842 971

**FROM:** Carl Manfred

**MESSAGE:**

> _Dear Markus,_
> 
> _If you don’t feel too rusty, how about obliging an old man with a game of Chess tomorrow morning with breakfast? For old times’ sake. _
> 
> _Bring your other half._
> 
> -_Carl_

It was a message Markus kept to himself as he returned to the others, and his joy reflected in only a ghost of a smile. Markus knew that the news Carl wanted to see _Simon_ would fill him with happiness, but likely also nerves.

**TO:** Carl Manfred

**FROM:** RK200 // Markus // #684 842 971

**MESSAGE:**

> _Carl,_
> 
> _I’ve missed you terribly. I think a game of chess is long overdue. _
> 
> _I’ll tell Simon not to let you off easy. _
> 
> _Coffee from St. Claire's?_
> 
> -_Markus_

* * *

Elijah’s arms shifted to better hold onto Connor as his legs were taken out from under him. He knew Connor wouldn’t let him fall, but he held on anyway, pressing his face into the crook of Connor’s neck once he had to break away from their kiss for air. He pressed soft little kisses to the skin there in between breaths.

The bed felt much more comfortable than it probably was in reality. He felt like he could sink back into it, his limbs feeling heavy. He kept himself propped up on his elbows though, so he could watch Connor.

“You can use whatever terms you want,” he told him, pulling himself into a sitting position just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head to toss it onto the floor with the rest of his clothes. Luckily, he’d brought a few changes of clothes to last the few days he planned on being in the city. Now that they had an apartment there, he would have to bring some of his clothes over to store there, so he wouldn’t have to pack an overnight bag every time he decided he wanted to see Connor.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” he commented, laying back against the bed with just an arm propping his head up. “But you’re beautiful all the time, no matter what you do. Even interrogating murder suspects, you’re beautiful. Incredibly sexy too, I have to say.”

\------

Simon wasn’t surprised that North had some questions. Close as he was with both her and Josh, he didn’t tell them much of anything. Not lately anyway. He wasn’t even certain they knew he had installed Kamski’s code, though he would be surprised if they hadn’t noticed anything about it by now. He finally turned his attention away from Markus, looking to North.

“I know a few humans,” he pointed out, though he could easily count how many on one hand. “I’m not sure I should say. I don’t think we were meant to know, I doubt they would want word spreading...”

Connor hadn’t seemed too comfortable sharing that part of his life with them, though he did. Simon was grateful for it too, because it had helped better shape his opinion of both Connor and Elijah, and he no longer completely disliked either of them. Elijah was tolerable, even if he didn’t totally trust him, but Connor? Maybe he could be trusted. If he could love, truly love like he loved Elijah, he couldn’t be so bad.

Simon’s attention was redirected to Markus once he rejoined them, and seeing the faint ghost of a smile on Markus’ face brought one to his own. “What were you smiling about?” he asked, wondering what happened between Markus leaving to retrieve their tickets and returning. As far as he was aware, the other two hadn’t been talking to Markus while the three of them had been talking, so what could have made him smile like that?

* * *

Connor removed his shoes and socks, but not his clothes, when he’d settled on the bed beside Elijah. He watched him get settled, idly noting the way his muscles and tendons pulled beneath his skin. Androids didn’t have muscle, just plastic to simulate it. But they had tendons and arteries very similar to humans, hidden beneath plastic and metal.

He also looked at the hair on Elijah’s body, how it grew in a pattern, but also at random. Some androids had stubble, and body hair, but Connor was smooth, save for some light brown hairs on his arms, and the hair on his head. Elijah wasn’t hirsute, but he was an adult man, and Connor ran an exploratory hand down the outside of his thigh to simply feel him.

When Elijah laid down, Connor shifted, reaching over him to put his shoes on the floor and his tissue in the bin. Connor brushed the tip of his nose against Elijah’s as he did it, pressing their proximity close barely a second, and then drawing back. He didn’t have to put his shoes on Elijah’s side of the bed, he didn’t have to press close like he did. But there was a certain smugness about Connor as he did it.

“That’s the second time you’ve brought up my investigation technique,” Connor said, sounding genuinely curious. He settled cross-legged beside Elijah, pressed in close and drawing patterns across Elijah’s chest with his fingertips.

“I’m glad you found it sexy, but I don’t know why. That reaction… doesn’t make sense. Can you explain your thinking to me?”

\------

The train began pulling in as Markus rejoined them, and so Simon’s question went on hold for a moment as they made their way towards the doors, and stood at the front of the train. Their location was a petty matter of principle, but Markus didn’t care. After what they’d all been through, they deserved this one scruple.

“Carl must have seen the broadcast. He invited us over for breakfast and chess tomorrow morning,” Markus said quietly once North and Josh were focused on their own conversation. “He wants to meet you. I told him I'd tell you not to go easy on him.”

Just like the station, the train itself was mostly empty as it threaded into the suburbs. The people who used the train were, Markus noticed, mostly homeless humans. Two drug deals happened in their carriage while they were on it, interspersed within buskers playing for tips while they commuted, and a man with two enormous, snarling Dobermans. But the four of them were left unbothered.

Detroit was a marvel of industrialism. But it was also a city with a dark and grisly past. It was that history which was shown in the crumbling walls and abandoned houses they walked past to get to their complex. Detroit city was bright and hopeful, and Markus hoped the light could be brought here as well.

* * *

Elijah watched Connor get situated, patiently waiting for him to get settled beside him. He noted that Connor didn’t bother taking off his clothes yet. If he had his way, they wouldn’t be staying on for much longer, but he was too worn out at the moment to do anything about it just yet. Once he had a little rest, he planned on seeing if Connor wanted him to install the part yet or not. In the meantime, he was content to just lay with him.

Connor’s close proximity, brief as it was, made him shudder and inhale. He absolutely knew Connor was aware of what he was doing. He was fully aware of how sensitive Elijah was, and he definitely did it on purpose. He even had the nerve to pretend he didn’t do anything.

When Connor finally settled in beside him, Elijah shifted closer, close enough to rest his head against Connor’s chest. He could hear the steady beat of his Thirium pump in his chest, and it sounded so similar to a human heartbeat that if he didn’t know better, he might have mistaken him for a human. He gave a small shrug in response to Connor’s question, taking a moment to really think of an answer. It amazed him how little his brain wanted to function after sex with Connor. He felt slow, not quite as sharp. He didn’t particularly like it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt too _good_. Besides, apparently Connor felt the same effects after, so he didn’t let it bother him.

“I don’t know. I guess it might be because I’ve never seen you like that before. You were very intimidating. I’ve never quite seen you _angry_ before either though, aside from the third time you came to my house, when I tried to check your software for corruption,” Elijah said, trying to explain it in a way that even made sense. He wasn’t quite sure exactly why he found it so fascinating, but he did. “You were so calm and put together, each movement you made and everything you said seemed so intentional. It was fascinating to witness.”

* * *

Connor was silent for a very long moment after Elijah explained himself. He began to trace the long dip of muscle down the centre of Elijah’s spine, his LED flickering blue as he tried to wrap his head around what he was saying.

“I don’t understand,” Connor finally admitted, idly counting the bumps in Elijah’s vertebrae as he tried to figure him out. “You found me intimidating. You witnessed me being angry. And you found it fascinating and attractive?” Connor asked. And it would have been easy for Connor to sound judgemental, but he wasn’t; he was just very surprised.

“Some humans purposefully put themselves in humiliating scenarios during sex. Is your attraction to me being angry and intimidating similar to that, Elijah?” Connor asked curiously, slowly walking his fingers up the back of Elijah’s neck. “Do you want me to interrogate you?”

* * *

The fact that Connor was having a hard time wrapping his head around the simple concept of a kink was actually kind of amusing, though Elijah tried not to let it show. He needed to explain himself better, and he knew he’d have a much easier time doing so if he could actually think.

“Well… When you were genuinely angry with _me_, no, I didn’t find that attractive,” Elijah said, trying to clarify. “I’m not typically intimidated by you. I’ve never had much of a reason to be. But watching you interrogate… Doyle, was it? You were ruthless. A little rough too.”

Elijah knew Connor wasn’t being judgemental, he was just trying to understand, and he wasn’t opposed to explaining it to him. Although, he was pretty sure a simple internet search would explain it all much better than he was in the moment.

“It’s similar enough. I wouldn’t be against it,” he admitted honestly, angling his head so he could look up at him. “To be completely honest, there’s not much you _could_ do that I would be against trying at least once.”

* * *

Connor let out a satisfied sound that could easily be described as, _“huh_.” His LED flashed in a telltale loading pattern as he indeed began to search the internet, and his own systems, for things he thought were similar.

In the end, Connor categorised Elijah’s interest in his interrogations as _thrill_. He thought it was exciting. And so he also noted that if he were to interrogate Elijah, it likely couldn’t be previously agreed on. Consent would need to be given in a different way if it were to have the most effect.

“I feel the same way,” Connor said, tucking his chin to see Elijah’s face a little better. “I was only programmed to know of certain acts if they were common in homicides. But just like a human, I'm sure I'll make discoveries about myself as time goes by. I’m open to anything.”

Lifting Elijah’s chin with his knuckle, Connor bowed his head and kissed him. He felt strangely impatient, as though he were waiting for a meal that hadn’t come. The kiss was soft and sweet, and he didn’t allow it to deepen for reasons that were entirely selfish - he wanted Elijah to sharpen up so he could install the part.

“I won’t ask you again,” Connor said against his lips, smiling a little, “But do you need dinner, Elijah?”

* * *

Elijah smiled, just imagining all of the options. He hadn’t really experimented much in the past, though he wasn’t opposed to trying something new, if Connor wanted to. He didn’t touch on interrogation again, figuring he’d let Connor do what he wanted with the information he was given. He, more or less, had Elijah’s permission, so he didn’t think he had to say much else on the matter.

When Connor lifted his chin for a kiss, Elijah shifted closer ever so slightly. He had _wanted_ to deepen the kiss, move closer, maybe even on top of him, but Connor had broken the kiss far too soon, and he couldn’t quite hold back the soft whine that resulted from it.

He considered Connor’s question for a moment before sighing. “_Need_ or _want_?” he asked, though he wasn’t exactly expecting an answer. He pressed his lips against Connor’s one more time, short and sweet like the last, before removing himself completely, sitting up. “Might as well. Then when I’m finished, if you want, we could install the part I brought for you?”

In truth, Elijah wasn’t even that hungry, but taking some time out of Connor’s arms would help him bounce back faster. The sooner he could think straight again, the sooner he could install the part and he could give Connor a taste, teach him how to use his mouth. But he had to shake the thoughts away, or else he’d only make it harder to think straight. He reached over to the bedside table to retrieve the room service menu, skimming through until he found something that sounded appetizing enough to warrant leaving Connor’s side and called in his order.

Elijah returned the menu to the end table and got out of bed, as much as he didn’t really want to, and went to retrieve his clothes from the floor. He pulled them back on for now and retrieved the bag he had stored the part and his laptop and cables in before finally returning to the bed to sit beside Connor again.

* * *

Despite his impatience, a swell of affection surged in Connor when Elijah made it clear he wanted to be close. They had all night, and despite Connor _very_ much wanting that part, he almost told Elijah not to worry about it. They could install it when he regained alertness on his own.

But Elijah moved anyway, and Connor sat up, chewing on the inside of his lip as excitement began to build in his chest.

“_Yes_,” Connor replied breathlessly, “Yes please, Elijah.”

His eyes were glued to the box Elijah revealed, and a part of him wanted to go over to it and inspect it. Anatomical upgrades were common for androids, but not like _this_. He didn’t know what Elijah had done, only that it was an HR series part modified to his specifications. Was it a front piece? Or was it front and rear? In a smooth motion, Connor slipped from the bed and stood up, coming to crouch in front of it. Connor ran his fingers over the top of the box, and then began to open it. It wasn’t strange, or unnerving, but _fascinating_. Connor ran his fingers up the side of the hard, white plastic shell of his new hips. He then traced just his second finger down the flaccid curve of his new anatomy, finally feeling just a hint of weirdness.

“Is this standard, or to your taste?” Connor teased, meaning it deadpan, but grinning instead.

He replaced the lid, and didn’t make it back to the bed before the doorbell rang. He changed direction mid-stride, thanking the hotel staff at the door and allowing them to wheel in a trolley. The plates were covered in electric heating domes, and Connor went ahead and paid for it as they set everything down. Technically, CyberLife hadn’t halted his access to company funds. With the exception of taxis, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d used it, and it had all been since turning Deviant. Frankly, if he wanted to purchase coffee for Hank, he thought they owed it to him.

Connor slipped in behind Elijah as he began his meal, resting his chin on Elijah’s shoulder and wrapping his hands around his waist.

Connor knew Elijah wouldn’t mind, and so he didn’t ask, waiting until Elijah had his fork in his mouth before touching his first two fingers into Elijah’s food. He didn’t untuck his chin as he brought the fingers to his mouth-- only to huff out an abrupt laugh.

“It tastes fine. But I forgot to wash my hands. All I can taste is _you_.”

* * *

Elijah took out his computer and its charger, leaning over to plug it into the wall beside the bed. He turned it on and sat it aside to let it boot up while he waited for the food to arrive, watching Connor inspect the part in the box with an almost amused smile.

The part itself was more or less standard for the HR series, front and rear, with a few modifications to make it better fit Connor’s body and to make it compatible. Elijah hadn’t modified much else. He had made sure the code would be compatible with the part, but aside from that, he was fairly pleased with it as it was. He didn’t want to take too many liberties with it and have Connor be displeased, but he also didn’t quite want it to be the same as every other HR series part. The only exterior change, aside from modifying it to suit Connor’s body, had been just a slight size adjustment. He was sure Connor would notice, if he was at all familiar with the HR series.

Elijah’s eyes averted, looking to his computer screen instead of at Connor, feeling his face heat up. “It’s… Mostly standard.” He didn’t understand _why_ he suddenly felt embarrassed about it. He’d had no shame at all while he was working on it over the last few days, unless one of the girls started asking about it. They were curious, he didn’t blame them, but that still didn’t make talking about it any easier, especially when his thoughts already revolved around Connor enough as it was. How he managed to get anything done at all between his regular Connor-centric thoughts and his imagination playing out different scenarios involving the very part he’d been working on. It had been motivation to get it done, at least.

The food arrived much faster than Elijah had anticipated, and he was so grateful for it. He didn’t care about eating so much as he did getting his hands on Connor again. He made sure his laptop was safely out of the way as the food was brought over. He unwrapped the silverware and waited until Connor was situated comfortably behind him to start eating. Of course, he didn’t mind Connor tasting anything on his plate. He enjoyed seeing and hearing his reactions to everything he tasted, though what Connor had to say this time nearly made him choke on the bite of food he’d just taken.

“When you say half the things you say, do you think of the effect it would have on me, or do you just say whatever comes to mind?” Elijah asked, once he’d managed to swallow his food. He was fairly certain that Connor absolutely knew what he was doing. Connor was exceptionally bright, he had all the knowledge in the world available to him. Surely he knew what the things he said would do to Elijah. “You should research different things you may want to try. I know you said you’re open to anything, and there isn’t much I would say no to if you asked. Talk to me about the things you might want to try.” At least, if he was expecting Connor to say something incredibly lewd, he would be less likely to choke on his dinner.

* * *

Connor raised his eyebrows, and did his very best at giving Elijah a perfectly innocent expression. But his lips were pressed into a smirk, his eyes a little too wide, and it didn’t work at all.

“A little of both, if I'm being honest, Elijah. Not all of them land as well as this one did,” Connor said, reaching up to touch Elijah’s cheek. “I like the reactions you give. I love it when you laugh, mostly,” Connor said. “You and Hank are the only people who behave…” his lips pulled for a moment as he tried to find a nice way to phrase it, “positively to the way I speak and behave. Most humans find me uncomfortable to be around.” Connor nipped at Elijah’s ear, and pressed a neat smile against his skin.

“So if I can make you choke on your dinner with just a sentence then yes, _if you must know_.”

Connor settled against Elijah, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he allowed him to eat dinner. His second question went unanswered for a moment as Connor thought.

“I don’t know what I like yet,” Connor admitted honestly. “I’ve never found porn entertaining. I still find it tedious. Sex didn’t appeal to me until I began to explore it with you. Unless you’ve done it to me, it’s difficult to find one thing more appealing than the other. And we haven’t done very much at all.”

Still fiddling with Elijah’s shirt, he peppered the nape of Elijah’s neck in slow, soft kisses, debating his next words.

“But I like the thought of you in a cock ring. I want to watch how you’ll look as your orgasm is drawn out and denied. I want to hear the sounds you’ll make, I want to hear the things you’ll say to me, and I want to see your expression,” Connor said, running a few fingers down Elijah’s spine. “Sex is the only time I see you lose control. I want to see you lose control completely.”

* * *

Elijah wasn’t sure why he even felt the need to ask when he already knew that Connor was aware of what he was doing. He was glad that Connor liked his laugh, though, and that he liked the reactions he got out of him. Elijah felt the same. Connor’s smile was infectious, and his laugh was like music to his ears. He couldn’t understand why anyone else would have a hard time being around Connor. He was perfect. He was beautiful and strong, incredibly intelligent, determined, considerate, and full of personality, although it seemed like maybe Connor didn’t share much of himself with others. If other people didn’t know his personality, didn’t understand his sense of humor, then maybe that was why they didn’t like him?

He ate his dinner in silence, listening to Connor explain his answer to him. His answer wasn’t all that surprising, really. He could agree that porn really wasn’t that great. He was a teenager once, he’d watched his fair share, but it never really appealed to him. Sex itself wasn’t really something Elijah _needed_. It had been nice, but after going so long without being sexually intimate with anyone, he’d eventually lost interest. But with Connor, he couldn’t seem to get enough. They hadn’t done much more than touching, really, although he was absolutely looking forward to doing more once the part was installed.

As Connor went on to continue his answer, Elijah seriously wondered _why_ he thought asking was a wise choice. Even expecting a lewd answer, he wasn’t quite expecting _detail_ nor was he expecting the answer he got. He shifted slightly, his pants suddenly feeling a little too tight. The fingers down his spine made him shiver, and he had to force himself to swallow. He poked at his food, thinking before opening his mouth again.

“I wouldn’t mind being tied up,” he said, his voice coming out a lot hoarser than he’d thought it might. “Or tying you up.”

* * *

Connor’s face tilted as a _wave_ of realisation hit him. He was nothing but a quick learner, and while he knew his words had a tendency of getting beneath Elijah’s skin, he hadn’t quite counted on just how much. It was _exactly_ like when he needed to pull a confession out of someone, only much, _much_ better.

Connor’s eyes became half-mast, his fingers running back up Elijah’s spine. He was supposed to be calming him down, getting him ready to install the part. He should stop this in its tracks, like he had their earlier kisses. But he could _feel_ the elevation in Elijah’s pulse, the shivers down his spine, the way his skin grew very warm.

And so he ran a hand up into Elijah’s hair, and took a firm grip so he could tilt his head back.

“Well, aren’t you lucky that I know 723 different rope ties, spread out over 178 different surfaces,” Connor said into Elijah’s ear, keeping his lips close to the shell. “I know how to tie you nose to toes to any surface I see fit. I can bind you so you can’t move a single muscle I don’t permit, or I can leave some slack for thrashing,” Connor’s teeth scraped up the edge of Elijah’s ear, until his teeth clacked against his piercing. “I certainly have ideas, but I'd like to hear yours. I’d like to hear how you intend to tie me.”

* * *

The second Connor’s hand started traveling back up Elijah’s back, his dinner was abandoned. Leftovers could go in the fridge for later, he didn’t particularly care what happened to it, but it sure as hell wasn’t getting eaten _now_.

Elijah willed his hands to stay where they were in his lap. He knew he was supposed to be calming down so he could focus, but Connor was just so _fucking irresistible_. He _loved_ Connor’s hands in his hair, and he particularly loved when he pulled it. A breathy moan escaped him as Connor pulled his head back by his hair, a violent shiver running up his spine at the words in his ear. “_Fuck_,” he breathed, his eyes closing, allowing him to just focus on Connor’s words and touch.

Somehow, he hadn’t expected Connor to take what he’d said and completely turn it on him like he did, but he definitely wasn’t about to complain. With every word out of Connor’s _filthy_ mouth, he only grew harder, his pants getting more and more uncomfortable as time went on. His hands balled into fists, his nails digging into the skin. He almost _begged_ for it, but instead, he swallowed thickly and tried to collect himself enough to properly respond. He knew there was no way he could quite compare to _that_, though his thoughts had more or less been the same.

“I’ve studied more than a few different rope ties, though not as much as you. Why does a deviant hunter need to know _723 different rope ties_? Don’t answer that,” he said, shaking his head. Despite somehow managing coherent sentences, he sounded _wrecked._ “Rope, maybe silk, I’d leave that up to you to decide, if I’m feeling generous enough. I don’t want you to be completely immobile, just unable to _do_ anything yourself, leaving you _completely_ at my mercy. How do you feel about blindfolds? Androids, more so than humans, rely so heavily on visual input. Without sight and without being able to move, all you would be able to do is _feel_ everything…”

* * *

Elijah’s voice was an instant reward, and Connor gave a happy hum of sound at the tenor of it. The way he’d cussed, in particular, scrambled Connor’s thoughts. But not as much as he’d clearly scrambled Elijah’s. He loved listening to him get like this. He loved being the _only_ one with the power to reduce Elijah to something so completely wrecked.

Connor kissed his way down the side of Elijah’s arched neck, his lips twitching when he was asked a question and then told not to answer it. He knew so many so that if he needed to tie a deviant in place for _any_ reason, in any location, he could. Connor was immensely glad that nugget of programming was being donated to better causes.

But he stilled as Elijah began to describe how he’d tie _Connor_. Silk wasn’t something he’d considered before, and he shivered at the thought of it against his skin. But as he continued, Connor’s face tucked. And since he was sitting behind Elijah, his only hint of having any success against Connor was evident in the way his body shuddered.

“When an android loses a function,” Connor said and his voice was weak and shaking, “they compensate by increasing the functionality in their other components.” In other words, everything Elijah would do to him while he was bound and blind would be _so_ much more intense.

Connor huffed a breath he didn’t need against Elijah’s skin, and then tightened his grip on Elijah’s hair. He pulled him back a little more severely, and ran his other hand up the inside of Elijah’s thigh, across the sensitive skin beneath his naval, and then down the other thigh. _Purposefully_ touching Elijah everywhere except where he wanted.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Connor managed, shaky now himself. “How did _you_ want to be tied up?” Connor shifted back up to Elijah’s ear, and spoke into it. “_How do you want to be fucked, Elijah?”_

* * *

With how they were sitting, Elijah couldn’t see Connor. He couldn’t see if his words had any effect on him. He couldn’t hear it either, if Connor didn’t speak. But he _could_ feel Connor shudder behind him, and his face almost instantly broke into a smirk. _Good_. He could have a taste of his own medicine. And so, so much more once the part was installed. _If_ it ever _got_ installed, at this rate.

When Connor did speak, Elijah could definitely tell what he’d said had gotten to him, boosting his confidence. Although any thought of what _he _planned to do to _Connor_ flew out the window when he felt Connor’s hand on his thighs, and Elijah _knew_ he was avoiding the one place Elijah needed to be touched on purpose. His hips jerked slightly when Connor’s hand got close, and he bit down on his lower lip to stifle a moan. This was _fucking ridiculous_. He was supposed to be calming down, not getting more riled up! And _fucking Connor._ How was it that he knew _exactly_ what to say and _exactly how to say it_ to get under Elijah’s skin?

Elijah’s voice trembled when he spoke again. “Hard and fast. Rough. _Deep_,” he breathed out in reply, a shudder rolling through him just at the thought, and he moved to unbutton his pants, to get the offending piece of clothing out of the way and relieve some pressure. “_Please, Connor._” He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. He just wanted to install the part, but there was no way he could focus on it right now.

* * *

Connor swiftly caught Elijah’s wrists in one hand, lifting them away from the fly of his pants before he could completely undo it. Connor’s fingers were strong, as were most androids, easily caging Elijah’s wrists together. And since he was being such a _particular_ brand of asshole towards Elijah, he ran the knuckle of his pinky fingers just _slightly_ adjacent to the obvious bulge in Elijah’s pants.

“Hard and fast. Rough, and _deep_,” Connor said back to him, tugging at Elijah’s earlobe with his teeth. Without warning, Connor _yanked_ Elijah back by the hair, forcing his back into an arch. But even though Connor had meant for it to hurt a little - _that was the meaning of rough_ \- his LED still did a worried rotation of yellow as he watched him. With his other hand, Connor pinned Elijah’s hands to the centre of his chest. He couldn’t wait until he had the part. He couldn’t wait to make Elijah feel the way he wanted to feel.

“Elijah Kamski,” Connor snarled into Elijah’s ear, keeping his arch firmly in place. “Tell me how you want to be tied up, and I will let go of your wrists.”

* * *

When Connor grabbed his wrists, Elijah almost whined and on reflex, tried to pry his wrists away. But Connor was strong, and while Elijah _might_ have been able to break free if he really tried, he didn’t want to. Connor was also _very good_ at everything he did, it seemed. He was very good at making Elijah _feel good_. He was very good at getting under his skin. He was very good at _being a fucking tease_. Elijah tried to angle his hips enough to rock against Connor’s pinky finger, just to get _some_ sort of friction. He needed the attention so badly and with his hands held captive by Connor and the position they were in, there was nothing he could do.

Elijah had been about to say something, maybe clarify or to add onto what he’d said, but instead of words, the sound that came out of him was a mixture of a surprised gasp and a hiss of pain when Connor yanked him back by his hair. The way his back was arched wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was tolerable. The yank of his hair stung, but it didn’t quite _hurt_. Not in a bad way. He knew Connor wouldn’t purposefully _hurt_ him. The roughness was welcomed and he was so ready to get lost in the thrill of it.

The way Connor _snarled_ his name sent a shiver through his entire body, only making him ache with need _more_. His body was trembling, his breathing short and quick, and he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“I want… I want to be tied down,” he started, his voice strained. “Spread-eagle, unable to move. Vulnerable. No control. You decide what I need and what I get and when...” And he wanted to do the same to Connor, for someone who always seemed to be so in control of himself and of every situation.

* * *

Connor groaned at the shiver he elicited from Elijah. He felt a little punch drunk on the way Elijah was losing control, while at the same time a little flighty. The things he was saying, and the way he was saying them, didn’t feel like bedroom talk to Connor. They felt like threats. But he was a quick learner, and he kept his attention very closely on Elijah’s reactions.

Just as he promised, Connor released Elijah’s wrists when he was given what he wanted, vaguely making a point not to promise unbinding in the future.

And so he compromised.

Connor used the grip in Elijah’s hair to push him face-first into the mattress, his other hand carefully sliding Elijah’s dinner to the end of the bed. He had no idea what he was doing, chasing the reactions Elijah was giving him and mixing it with things he’d seen in passing. He allowed Elijah’s face to turn to one side so he could breathe, and pressed down against Elijah’s back, slotting in behind him.

Connor hadn’t touched Elijah other than the hand in his hair and down his thighs. Everything Elijah had reacted to had been things Connor had _said_, not so much _done_. He was winding up at the same rate as if Connor’s hands were all over him. And so he wondered - Could he push Elijah over the edge with just a suggestion and a tone of voice? It was a fascinating idea, and there really wasn’t much to lose. If he couldn’t achieve it, his hands weren’t far.

“I’m going to tie you down and make you beg, Elijah,” Connor said, keeping his voice sharp and authoritative despite feeling as though his limbs were made of jitters. “I’m going to work you open with my fingers,” his teeth bared against Elijah’s ear, “Little, by little. Slowly, until I can hear the desperation in your voice, and see it in your body.”

Connor knew the mechanics of sex, and Elijah had given him enough of a taste to understand how good it felt, how desperate you could become. But he was bluffing. He didn’t _know_ what he was doing. But the way Elijah trembled beneath him, his pulse, and his short, sharp breaths told Connor he was doing okay.

“I’m not a human. I don’t tire, I don’t lose momentum, and I don’t have muscles that can become fatigued,” Connor said quietly, only for his lips to pull back with yet another snarl. “Hard and fast and deep, Elijah? I’ll make you _scream_.”

And just like with the arch he’d pulled Elijah into, Connor’s LED did another worried, yellow rotation as he subtly checked his expression, making sure he hadn’t overstepped.

* * *

Elijah had no idea what Connor might do once he had him pinned to the bed, face first. He trusted him completely though, and he knew Connor would stop if he asked, though had no intention of asking. This new position, though, put more strain on him through his pants, and he groaned and flinched each time the the denim of his jeans rubbed against him with every slight movement. He had his hands now, he could finally take off his pants so he could feel like he could really _breathe_ again, but he didn’t try just yet.

A violent shudder ran through him at Connor’s words and he let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the duvet beneath him just to keep his hands occupied. Elijah couldn’t think straight, at all. All he _could_ do was imagine everything Connor was saying, imagine himself tied down, completely at Connor’s mercy, being worked open agonizingly slow, unable to touch himself or Connor, simply being forced to feel and watch. He _keened_ at the thought, his hips grinding back against Connor’s the best he could manage.

He couldn’t resist it anymore and his hands slid between him and the mattress to try to undo his pants again, _needing_ to get them off. He wasn’t sure how far he’d get in the position they were in, but he had to try.

“_Please_,” Elijah moaned, almost near tears. His eyes were closed, his face flushed, eyebrows knitted up and together. His mouth hung open, breath coming out in pants and gasps. “Connor, _please_.”

He felt so close already, so close to the edge. His brain felt foggy and he could hardly form a coherent thought let alone a coherent sentence. He swore he could come untouched like this, if Connor kept it up. He hadn’t been touched, had he? He didn’t think so. Did Connor know that? Was that his plan all along?

* * *

Any concern Connor had was washed swiftly away with how Elijah reacted. His desperate keening was beautiful, and Connor didn’t miss the way he gripped the duvet for dear life. The sight of him made Connor _ache_. He felt as though Elijah had continuously would him up with no conclusion since he’d appeared at the DPD. And while Connor hadn’t minded their release being one-sided at the door, and while he _definitely_ didn’t mind being in charge now, there was a noted desperation in Connor.

He thought about letting Elijah’s hands roam where they pleased. But he’d also come to learn that this was a _game_, or at the very least, their own kind of intimate interrogation. Elijah loved being _dominated_. And so Connor obliged him, and yanked Elijah’s hands out from underneath him, and pinned them above his head. And when Elijah begged? Connor’s head bowed where Elijah couldn’t see him, his gaze glued to the wanton expression he was wearing. He was beautiful. He was _so beautiful_.

“‘Please’ _what_, Elijah?” Connor asked, his voice carrying just the tiniest quiver beneath the demand. “You look beautiful, Elijah, and I've barely put a finger on you. How will you look when I'm inside of you? You’ll sweat, your head will toss back, and you’ll arch into me. A beautiful mess, no doubt.” Connor leant down, and snapped his teeth lightly beside Elijah’s ear. Elijah was _so_ close, and Connor didn’t want to cheat by touching him. His gaze flicked to check his expression, and he was oddly proud he’d managed to get him here with words alone.

“What sounds will you make while I'm fucking you, Elijah? What will I hear beside the slap of skin as I enter you again, and again, and _again_? As I give you what you’ve asked me for?”

* * *

When Connor ripped Elijah’s hands away from his pants and pinned them above his head, he let out a broken sob of desperation. He didn’t know why he thought even for a second that he’d have been allowed to take his pants off. He’d been stopped the first time, and he knew nothing got passed Connor. Of course he’d notice.

Elijah’s body practically vibrated with need, he’d been unable to stop trembling. If he wasn’t so far gone, he might have noticed the slight waver in Connor’s voice, the slightest bit of evidence to prove that he was affected at all. He tried rocking his hips back against Connor, needing some sort of friction somewhere. _Anywhere_. But it wasn’t enough, he could hardly move.

As Elijah’s imagination ran away with Connor’s words, the sounds he made only grew more desperate, more wanton, and finally, on that very last “_again_,” his orgasm violently ripped through him, crying Connor’s name. His body convulsed as he came, tears running down his cheeks. Aftershocks rippled through him accompanied by breathy gasps, his body trembling with each one.

Elijah slowly blinked his eyes open again as he slowly, so slowly, started to come back to himself. His body was covered in sweat, his clothes clinging to his skin in a way that was absolutely uncomfortable, and if he had been completely there, he might have been bothered.

* * *

This one was Connor’s favourite to date.

When Elijah’s orgasm hit, Connor released him from the pin so he wouldn’t hurt himself. His lips pressed against his neck, lightly kissing him. And _oh_, the way he said Connor’s name made Connor moan softly against him.

This had been an accident. He hadn’t sat behind Elijah with the intention of riling him up, it had simply happened. One thing led to the next, one curious reaction leading to Connor pressing his discoveries. It was going to have a _long_, marked delay of when Elijah would be fit enough to install the part. But Elijah had been breathtaking, and Connor considered the delay worth it.

Connor released his hold in Elijah’s hair, and gently rolled him over. Connor was shaking a little, wound up with a thick anticipation that had received no attention. But his LED flicked to yellow when he noticed the tears tracked down Elijah’s cheeks, and Connor leant in to softly wipe them away with his fingertips. The tears caused a _sharp_ pang of anxiety. But everything in Elijah’s behaviour had suggested consent and enjoyment, Connor had only read positive reactions in Elijah. Logically, that meant the tears weren’t negative. But emotionally, Connor still worried.

Connor waited until Elijah had come back to himself before kissing him. His hands worked at removing Elijah’s clothes, but it was a utilitarian action - not for sex, but to simply remove them from him. He could see how uncomfortable they were for him, and he’s particularly careful as he removed Elijah’s pants. Connor’s clothing was next; his shirt, followed by his pants and socks. Everything was folded neatly into quarters as he went, and with Elijah’s dinner still pushed to the end of the bed, Connor pulled Elijah into his arms and settled against the pillows.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, his lips kissing across Elijah’s temple. He felt _so_ incredibly restless, but kept it to himself. “You were crying. Did I do something wrong?”

* * *

Elijah cooperated, rolling with Connor’s guidance. He happily and lazily returned his kiss, and when Connor began undressing him, he had no complaints. His entire body felt like dead weight, but he managed to at least _attempt_ to cooperate with him, lifting his arms just enough when Connor removed his shirt. He shivered as the cool air hit his skin, staying mostly quiet in an attempt to catch his breath.

When Connor began removing his pant, Elijah hissed in discomfort, so sensitive, it almost hurt. He didn’t stop him though, he wanted his pants off regardless of how much it hurt. Through half lidded eyes, he watched Connor strip himself and fold everything so meticulously. Honestly, Elijah didn’t see the point when the clothes were dirty and needed to be washed anyway, but it was endearing.

Elijah moved with him the best he could, giving Connor a second to get comfortable before settling against his chest. He was more than ready to just close his eyes and let sleep take him, but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake, wait to recover enough to _finally_ install the part for Connor, so he could repay him. He wanted to make him feel just as amazing. He wanted to watch Connor fall apart and lose control. He deserved all the attention he wanted after what he’d accomplished.

“I’m _fantastic_,” Elijah breathed in reply, wearing what he could only guess was the stupidest smile. He hadn’t felt so _relaxed_ in ages. “You’re perfect. So perfect.” Putting together actual sentences was proving to be harder than he’d initially thought. “You didn’t do a single thing wrong. Good tears.” He shifted just enough to lean up and press his lips to Connor’s, humming happily into it. “I love you, Connor.”

* * *

At Elijah’s happy, albeit brainless confirmation, Connor bubbled up with a smile that stretched his entire face. His chest _ached_ with the way Elijah was behaving, a crystalline joy settling right into Connor’s being. He’d rendered him incoherent, which with Elijah Kamski was no easy feat. He remembered how hard it was to function when Elijah had made him orgasm, and so he didn’t comment on it, despite wanting to tease.

“Good tears,” Connor repeated, before meeting Elijah for the kiss. The compliments meant a lot to Connor. He liked hearing he’d done a good job, and Elijah was full of praise.

“I love you too, Elijah,” Connor said, leaning up to rest their foreheads together. “Was there anything I did that overstepped a line? Did I hurt you in a way you didn’t enjoy at any point?” Connor asked softly, although his worry was more or less dissipated. But he still wanted to know, and his tone was curious.

Connor rested his elbow on the mattress beside Elijah, and curled his wrist to gently play with his hair. Elijah’s heart rate was slow and relaxed, and if he didn’t know better, he’d pin his breathing as almost resting. He was _blissed_, and it filled Connor with affection.

“You’re tired. Rightly so, too; you orgasmed, twice, quite hard, in the space of thirty minutes. That’s an impressive refractory period, Elijah,” Connor teased gently. “I can wake you before you hit REM sleep, if you like, so you’re more refreshed.”

* * *

Seeing Connor smile so wide was a blessing that Elijah liked to think was something only he got to see. He loved seeing Connor happy. He reached up with one hand to cup the side of Connor’s face, his thumb running over his smiling lips.

“I love your smile. It’s beautiful,” he said softly, before closing the very small gap for another shorter kiss. He could tell Connor had been worried by the way he kept asking if he was okay, if he’d been hurt or upset, and all Elijah could do was shake his head. “No. I would have said something if you did.” Which, now that he was thinking a little clearer, it did occur to him that if they were going to really delve into kink territory in the future, maybe establishing a safeword or the stoplight system would be wise. But that was something he’d worry about when he was fully coherent again.

Elijah sighed contently as Connor’s fingers played with his hair, his eyes slipping closed. He _was_ tired. He was exhausted. How he was even still conscious was beyond him. He didn’t even have anything to say in retort to Connor’s teasing, all that came from it was a smile. He shook his head, shifting slightly against him to get more comfortable. He nuzzled in against the crook of Connor’s neck with a happy hum.

“No, it’s okay. I want to stay awake with you,” Elijah told him, pressing a kiss to his neck. He wanted to stay awake to keep Connor company, just cuddle and talk about whatever, but his body had different plans and before he could even hear if Connor had anything more to say, he was out like a light.

* * *

If Connor hadn’t been so concerned about waking Elijah up, he would have laughed at the way he passed out. Connor tucked his chin and pressed his lips against Elijah’s temple, halfway kissing him, and half just resting there. Elijah was a different person when his brain was scrambled eggs. He was sweet, gentle, and Connor could still feel where he’d traced his smile.

He hadn’t seen all sides of Elijah. He’d seen him irritated and imposed on, when he and Hank had first met him. He’d seen him honest, he’d seen him vulnerable, and of course, he’d seen him intimately.

But Connor had yet to see Elijah _angry_. He’d yet to see him upset. And while he very firmly loved the personality he’d uncovered thus far, Connor wanted to see those other two incredibly important emotions, too. He wanted to be in his vicinity while he wasn’t at his best before he entertained notions of forever.

Connor allowed his mind to wander, replaying the memories he’d just made with Elijah a few times, as well as the thought of their apartment, their _home_. He also realised how happy he was, and recognised that pure happiness like this hadn’t existed for him before Elijah.

Getting brutally hit by a bullet train was the best thing that had ever happened to Connor.

He _very_ carefully slid out from under Elijah, painstakingly making sure he wasn’t woken up, to put his dinner in the fridge. He picked up their clothing while he was at it and put them in the laundry bag provided by the hotel, and moved his shoes to rest beside Elijah’s at the front door. Elijah was where he’d left him when he returned, and he took a moment to watch him sleep as he slid back into bed.

It would have been easy to kiss Elijah awake, and Connor very much wanted to. But he wanted the part installed more than he wanted a kiss, and so tempting as it was, he refrained. Instead, he began to gently trace Elijah’s features. He pushed his mouth open a little via his bottom lip, and gently tapped his chin with his forefinger.

“Wake up, Elijah,” Connor murmured, cupping Elijah’s face.

* * *

Elijah was fairly sure he hadn’t fallen asleep quite so fast in months. He also _knew_ he hadn’t slept quite as well in even longer. Apparently, if he wanted to have a good full night’s sleep, Connor just had to fuck him boneless. Who knew.

He didn’t dream, not quite falling deep enough. It was for the best, because if he had, he knew he wouldn’t want to get up. He already didn’t want to wake up as he felt and heard Connor. With a groan, Elijah turned his face towards Connor’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm as he started to fully come to.

Elijah smiled up at him, reaching up to wrap his arms around him. “I haven’t slept that well in _months_,” he said, pulling Connor down for a kiss, though he didn’t linger. He kept it chaste and short, just showing affection and nothing more. It was Connor’s turn to lose control, and Elijah couldn’t wait to watch him fall apart.

Elijah sat up and reached over to grab his laptop again. He navigated around for a moment, preparing it for Connor. He sat it aside once it was ready and slipped out of bed to retrieve the box and the cables he needed before returning, sitting down again.

“Are you ready, Connor?” he asked as he connected the necessary cables to his computer. All that remained was to connect Connor to it. Even though he knew what he was going to do was perfectly safe, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. He doubted anything would go wrong, but there was always the possibility that something _might_. A computer malfunction, some code not working the way it should, was all it would take and it was scary.

“I’m going to connect you to the laptop and initiate a shutdown sequence. It shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, you tell me, alright?”

* * *

Connor found himself completely taken aback. He had expected Elijah to need a coffee, to need a shower, to need to eat something, before he’d woken up completely. _He’d expected him to wake up like Hank_. He should have known better, really, but it was still jarring.

Connor’s nerves also spiked now that the buffer between waking Elijah up and him installing the part had been reduced to nil. He trusted Elijah, but… there were some incredibly huge risks.

“Do you wake up like this every day?” Connor asked, watching Elijah move with wide eyes. Would it be better to let Elijah simply turn off his sensory code, and do this awake? He was using a laptop, not his main computer. The hotel power could fail them. The laptop could become overloaded by just how _large_ Connor’s system was.

He hadn’t shut down since he’d become deviant, and Connor’s LED made a few yellow rotations. What if he automatically reset with shutdown? What if there was some kind of trap he didn’t know about?

Connor’s brows furrowed together and he glanced over at the part. He realised, vaguely, that he was starting to panic, and the moment he did, his chin tucked so he could _think_.

If CyberLife had installed a restart protocol he couldn’t see, Elijah was a human, not a deviant, and would be in zero danger of Connor resetting. Elijah was safe. And if he began to reset, and if he were _aware_, no doubt he’d find the same back door he’d used last time. He could override it. His reset would also show on Elijah’s computer. _Elijah_ would stop it. And lastly, all of Connor’s coding, his deviancy, everything, was saved to Elijah’s computer since the last time he’d updated the code. If he was wiped, Elijah could restore him to that date.

He’d be okay.

“Yes, I'm ready,” Connor finally answered, looking at Elijah’s monitor. His LED was still yellow, but he’d schooled his expression perfectly neutral. “If it starts to hurt, I will tell you,” he said, holding his hand out for the cord, and plugging it in himself.

The shutdown was _uncomfortable_. Connor hummed as he suddenly felt too heavy to move. His eyes flickered in a markedly robotic manner, his chest raising and falling in one last simulated breath, before the life left Connor’s eyes. His LED flickered a few moments longer, before going blank, and he remained sitting where he was, his eyes still open, and his brow still creased in a bit of a frown.

* * *

It hadn’t quite occurred to Elijah that just waking up and getting to work was something out of the ordinary until Connor asked about it. He supposed it wasn’t really normal. Most people needed coffee or a shower or breakfast, and some people liked to lay in bed for a while before attempting to even get up. He had days where he had a hard time getting out of bed, but for the most part, his mornings were all very much the same.

“Most of the time, I suppose so,” Elijah said with a small shrug. “I don’t have a very hard time getting out of bed if I got enough rest. Sometimes I do need coffee, but most mornings are easy enough.”

The yellow of Connor’s LED reflected how Elijah himself was feeling. He almost asked Connor to stay conscious, let him disable the code just for the few minutes it would take to install the part, but he didn’t and Connor didn’t say a thing about it either. Elijah tried not to let his nerves show. He didn’t want to worry Connor more than he already was.

Upon Connor’s request, Elijah handed over the cable. “I love you,” he told him before clicking to start the shutdown. He watched Connor closely, sparing an occasional glance at his screen to make sure everything was going smoothly. And it did, as far as he could tell. Although, watching the life drain from Connor, watching his body go still, the life in his eyes fade, and his LED flicker out… It had been _rough_.

Elijah let out a shaky sigh and shook away his thoughts, getting to work. The sooner he had the part installed, the sooner he could reactivate him. It didn’t take long to exchange the parts, each connected piece popping out of place with just enough pressure in just the right place. Once the new HR series part, customized specifically for Connor, was installed, Elijah ran a quick diagnostics scan just to make sure everything was compatible and checked out before initiating Connor’s reactivation. He _should_ be fine and pick up right where he’d left off, but he was still nervous anyway. He watched him with bated breath, his eyes locked on the LED on Connor’s temple, waiting for signs of life.

* * *

**ALERT**

> Part #7898p // Pelvis
> 
> Status: _**CONNECTED**_

**ALERT**

> Part #8349f // HR-RK Front Modification
> 
> Status: _**CONNECTED**_

**ALERT**

> Part #8350b // HR-RK Rear Modification
> 
> Status: _**CONNECTED**_
> 
> _Diagnostic Report 89%… _
> 
> _Calibrating… _
> 
> **Welcome Back**
> 
> **RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 -57**

Connor woke up on his back, blinking rapidly, and trying to discern where he was. It took him a little longer than a model of his making should to realise he was staring at a ceiling, not a wall, and that he’d only been moved horizontally. Connor’s LED flickered yellow, before he gasped, and finally came back online.

The second he did, Connor’s hands jumped to his hips, and his LED spun yellow for _entirely_ different reasons. This part of his body was new, which meant it hadn’t acclimatized to the code like the rest of him.

He was _sensitive_, just as he’d been that first night.

Connor pushed up into a sit, looking down at himself the entire time he did. With his skin covering the connection seams, he looked _human. _He looked like Elijah - approximately, anyway. Connor’s thighs parted as he slid his fingers below his navel, in a direct line downwards. His mouth slipped open as he did, his shoulders hunching up, and a rough shiver wracked Connor’s entire body as he gently held himself in his hand. He was new, all over again. Oversensitive, just as he’d been before - but only between his thighs. Connor wasn’t stupid enough to think that wouldn’t be taken advantage of.

Turning his face to look at Elijah, he only managed a weak, “_It works…”_

* * *

Elijah watched him closely as Connor gradually woke up, his eyes alternating between watching the LED and his face. He was looking for any sort of indicator that something might have gone wrong. Though the longer he watched him, studying his facial expressions, he realized he was probably trying to process feeling again. It was a new part, and while he was familiar with the code, the new part wasn’t.

Watching Connor touch himself and explore only made Elijah want to take over for him, but he kept his hands to himself, at least for now. He needed to make sure Connor was okay, disconnect him, put away his laptop. Once everything was done, he could finally touch.

“How does it feel?” Elijah asked, fairly certain his eagerness was evident in his voice. “Are you okay? No pain, discomfort?”

Elijah didn’t totally wait for a response before he started closing down his computer, exiting out of everything, leaving only the cables connecting Connor to the two. Though as soon as it was clear that Connor was fine, he disconnected the cables and returned everything to its place in his bags.

He turned his attention completely on Connor once everything was out of the way, reaching over to slide his fingers through Connor’s hair before using it to pull him in close for a kiss. Unlike before, this kiss wasn’t chaste or slow. If anything, it was Elijah’s way of almost asking if he could touch him, almost unsure. But when he broke away from the kiss to breathe, he willed himself to speak.

“Do you want me to show you how to use your mouth now? Or would you rather we do that later?”

* * *

Connor’s distraction would be evident in the way he kissed Elijah back. He didn’t reciprocate at first, only to inhale through his nose, and wrap an arm around Elijah’s shoulders. The kiss was perfect, one that was slow and chaste wouldn’t have been enough. Connor would twitch intermittently, his stomach sucking in every so often when he shifted, or when Elijah stirred the air around him, or bumped his thighs.

“The code is taking a while to adjust,” Connor said a little roughly, his LED a solid, glaring yellow. “I’m not in any pain, but I am very uncomfortable,” and Connor’s body would shudder as he clung to Elijah, as though to prove his point for him. “I am _so_ sensitive. I can’t tell whether it’s because it’s an erogenous zone, or because the rest of me has already adjusted, and so it feels intense in comparison.”

At Elijah’s last question, Connor released a pent up groan, his fingers digging in to try and retain _some_ semblance of composure. But Connor knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“_Yes_, I want to,” Connor keened, his eyebrows knotted up. “Elijah, I am so sensitive I will _not_ last long, but yes.”

* * *

Elijah carded his fingers through Connor’s hair, shifting closer. “It might be a combination of both, really,” he said pressing another kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth followed by another along his jaw. He kissed his way down to Connor’s neck, the hand not in Connor’s hair coming up to lightly push on his chest, to guide him onto his back.

“If it gets to be too much, you tell me,” Elijah said softly, peeking up at him just for a moment before continuing. He laid on top of him, very careful to _not_ touch anything below the waist just yet. He kept his touches and kisses light, almost teasing. He nipped at Connor’s ear along the way, pausing along the way to kiss, nip, and suck what _would _become marks, if he were human, into the skin. He didn’t linger in one place for long though, moving lower.

He paused again once he reached Connor’s chest, grazing his teeth ever so lightly across his nipple. He watched him the best he could given the angle, partially wanting to make sure he stayed okay but also wanted to watch his reactions. It wasn’t the first time he’d littered Connor’s body with kisses and bites, but this was the first time Connor’s body could really have much of a physical reaction.

Elijah didn’t mind that Connor might not be able to last long. He didn’t expect him to. He shifted over to give Connor’s other nipple the same treatment before continuing down his body, leaving a trail of kisses across his stomach, lingering over his hip. He nipped a little harder there, glancing up at him again before going lower, letting his breath ghost over him. He ran his fingers up the inside of Connor’s thighs, coming up close enough to touch, but _not quite_ before traveling back down.

“How are you feeling?”

* * *

Connor was _tense_ with anticipation. He trembled as Elijah began to move down his body, knowing where his destination was headed. He knew from the reactions he pulled from Elijah that it obviously felt good. But he had nothing to hold it against for his own experience, and the need to know made him almost nudge Elijah down a little quicker. He refrained, instead choosing to wrap his wrist and hand around the back of Elijah’s head. Having his hands in his hair, when he was this sensitive, and considerably strong, felt like an accident waiting to happen.

Elijah’s touches were light, blazing a trail across Connor’s skin. He knew it was coming, how could it not be? But when Elijah’s teeth scraped over his nipple, Connor’s entire body jerked beneath Elijah, and his hands would come to clutch his shoulders with a sharp moan. One hand slipped from his shoulder to press against the duvet, and his shoulder would curve inwards as he pressed one side of his chest up against Elijah’s mouth.

Connor’s expression was pinched, and his LED shifted from yellow to red somewhere between the first and second nipple. He couldn’t think. And all of his pent-up tension from throughout the day poured out of Connor as Elijah dusted too-soft affection across his skin. The new addition of Connor’s anatomy rested hard and at an angle against the left side of Connor’s groin. The kisses down his stomach left Connor with audible gasps, and the only reason he didn’t buck up was his concern he’d break Elijah’s nose with his pelvis.

Instead of answering Elijah’s question, Connor’s body twitched and arched, his thighs spreading with a groan. His LED flashed red, and when Connor held the back of Elijah’s head, he was shaking.

“I’m feeling as though I somewhat regret the way I teased you earlier today,” Connor said, and his voice was _wretched_. “I’m feeling as though you’re exacting a little bit of revenge. But,” he had to pause as another sharp shiver tore through Connor, “The threat of self-destruction is zero.”

His hand found one of Elijah’s as he spoke, and his grip was just a little too tight. He was shaking, already wound up tight and with a frown etched into his brows.

“_Please keep going_.”

* * *

Elijah could feel every tremble, every slight movement Connor made beneath him, each one urging him on. He was glad to finally give Connor a taste of his own medicine, show him just how mind-boggling it could be. And he _knew_ Connor didn’t have a refractory period. If he wanted to, he could tease him over the edge as many times as Connor would let him.

He’d be lying if he said he was relieved Connor didn’t grab his hair and force him lower, although he knew it was probably for the best. Connor was incredibly strong, and if Elijah wasn’t prepared for it, damage could be done. It seemed the same thought had occurred to Connor, luckily and unsurprisingly.

As Connor’s body jerked underneath him, Elijah huffed a chuckle against his skin, smiling as he continued on with his trail of kisses and occasional nips or bites. He loved hearing the sounds Connor made, and while he couldn’t quite see Connor’s face from the position he was in at the moment, he knew he loved that too. As long as it was clear Connor was enjoying it, he wasn’t concerned about seeing is face or his LED, although he was fairly certain it was red by now.

Elijah took the opportunity of Connor’s legs spreading to shift between them, still making sure to avoid touching his groin or the immediate area surrounding it. He paused his trail of kisses just where Connor’s thigh connected to his hip, giving him the chance to speak, even if he wasn’t quite answering his question.

“I don’t regret it,” Elijah replied, leaning back in to kiss part way down his thigh, nipping his way back up and stopping just short of his crotch, close enough that his breathing would hit him. “I wouldn’t necessarily call this _revenge_…” Though it kind of was. He wanted Connor to feel how he’d felt, to know how _amazing_ it was and how much he loved everything Connor did to him. He wanted him to feel it too. He was glad to hear that there was still no threat of self-destruction, although he doubted it would be a danger if it hadn’t come up in the past.

Elijah’s hands ran from Connor’s thighs to his hips, one of them holding him down and still, his thumb massaging deep, slow circles into the skin while his other hand met Connor’s. With Connor’s urging, Elijah obeyed, finally getting close enough to touch, kissing to the base of him before running his lips along his length, peppering the skin with the tiniest kisses along the way. His tongue swiveled around the head as he got to the tip and he glanced up at Connor to make sure he was alright before wrapping his lips around him. He didn’t move at first, simply keeping his lips loosely wrapped around Connor’s length, his tongue resting against the tip while he gave him a second to process it all, and to get used to the sensation.

* * *

Connor released a desperate, cut-off moan when Elijah shifted to hold him down. He knew why Elijah was doing that. He knew what came next. But he wasn’t quite prepared for how it really felt.

Connor was so sensitive that when Elijah’s kisses reached the base of him, Connor flinched hard beneath him. He hissed in a breath he didn’t need through his teeth, and tried to stay still. He knew it wouldn’t always be this intense. Connor’s sensitivity was exacerbated by the newness of the code adjusting to the new parts. He knew that he wouldn’t be so _immediately_ desperate in the future.

With a groan, Connor pushed up on one elbow so he could watch. His mouth opened to say Elijah’s name, only for it to hang with his eyebrows raised and knitted. Connor shook like a leaf as Elijah worked his way to the tip, and when his tongue swirled around it, Connor _broke_. A loud moan fell from Connor’s lips, dirty and clear and no doubt heard by the neighbours. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, and twitched as he lowered himself back down.

“Your mouth is so hot,” Connor said, meaning the temperature. “I can’t-- I can’t think, I can’t--”

His hand slid around to cup Elijah’s jaw, if only to stop himself holding his head in place and rolling his hips. Connor had a feeling Elijah wouldn’t mind at _all_ if Connor fucked up into his mouth. But the human esophagus was delicate, and frankly, Connor thought they could wait until he was in better control of himself.

“_I love you,”_ Connor said, rough and needy.

* * *

The sounds Connor was making were _filthy_ and Elijah almost felt bad for their neighbors. _Almost_. Connor’s noises were beautiful. The way he writhed underneath him was beautiful. Elijah almost wished he would stay this sensitive, though he knew it wouldn’t last. Once his systems adjusted and sorted themselves out, it wasn’t likely that he’d get responses quite like this again, and it was pretty damn disappointing.

Elijah chuckled lowly around him at his words, his broken attempt to convey what he was thinking, or rather, not thinking. He knew Connor was having a hard time staying still, and as much as he _welcomed_ the idea of Connor fucking his mouth, he knew that, at the moment, it would be safer for both of them to wait.

Elijah’s hand remained on Connor’s hip, firmly holding it in place while he slowly took more of him into his mouth, his tongue running his underside as he went. He pulled back just as slowly but never let him completely leave his mouth, his tongue swiveling around the tip again before he sank back down, taking in more of him this time, as much as he could before his gag reflex would kick in. He let go of Connor’s hand, running it down Connor’s thigh and in between his legs, gently rubbing his inner thigh, dangerously close to touching him.

He looked up at him, watching him closely, wanting to memorize his movements, his facial expression, his bright red LED on his temple. He was beautiful, just as beautiful as the sounds that came from his mouth. He knew Connor wouldn’t last long. He sped up his movements just slightly, running his tongue purposefully over the slit this time before going back down. He kept the pace even, focusing on breathing through his nose and making sure not to block his airway so he didn’t have to stop to breathe. He didn’t want to waste any time, even if he wanted to drag it on. Elijah hummed happily around him, not quite able to return the “I love you” verbally but figuring maybe Connor would get the message.

* * *

As Connor lay on their hotel bed with Elijah knelt between his thighs, the way he looked was nothing less than in ecstasy. Frustratingly, Connor wished he could kiss Elijah, but given the position, it was obviously impossible. He very sharply understood the appeal of polyamory, even if he would be reluctant to share Elijah’s attention with anyone in reality.

The pleasure beneath Connor’s skin was perfect and agonising, and with his hips held in place, his torso twisted and arched instead. Elijah’s tongue was perfect torture, and was what reduced Connor to sounds that were no likely going to result in a noise complaint from reception. He so _desperately_ wanted to buck, and forcing himself not to had Connor saying Elijah’s name through a sob.

Just as he promised, he wasn’t lasting long. He didn’t want it to be over so fast, he wanted it to drag out much, _much_ longer. He felt himself spiral as he had in Elijah’s room, only this time the _intensity_ of it was unparalleled. It made Connor incomprehensible as he moaned Elijah’s name, twisting away from the sensitivity while also, impossibly, trying to press into the pleasure.

And just like last time, Connor locked up as he felt himself slipping. His hand braced against the bed, curling into a fist against the fabric. He didn’t want it to end, he didn’t want it to be over, and the keening sound Connor released was _incredibly_ filthy as he tried to resist a little longer. His body trembled _hard_ as Connor locked up further, every part of him wracked with shivers. The loss of control was still something that loomed over Connor, but this time, wasn’t something he had a choice about.

Connor came with a desperate shout, his body undulating and his hips bucking up. It tore through Connor with a wretched sob, his LED flicking frantically red, and then blacking out completely. But he was still moving, his shoulders trembling as he collapsed out of the arch he was in. Eventually, and just as it had last time, Connor’s LED rebooted with just one slowly rotating fraction of light. Connor became boneless on the bed, his eyes closed and his body twitching every time Elijah touched him.

* * *

Connor was _loud_ and Elijah loved every second of it, even if a small part of him knew they’d likely get a noise complaint sooner than later. He couldn’t wait until they could be in their own place again, with nice, thick walls and no one in the next room to overhear them. They could be as loud as they wanted, and they wouldn’t be restricted to just the bed or the bedroom. With tinted enough windows, they’d have their entire apartment. Elijah planned on using every available surface in the future.

Hearing Connor sob his name was like music to his ears. He could tell Connor was spiraling, by the sounds he was making, the way his body twisted and turned, trying to get away while at the same time, trying to get closer, wanting more but needing it to stop. Elijah didn’t relent, keeping up his movements as the grip on Connor’s hips let up, his hands moving to gently rub up and down his sides to soothe him. As Connor tensed up underneath him, _resisting_, Elijah wanted to pull back, kiss him, reassure him as he had for Elijah in the past, but he would have to stop to do so, and he had no intentions of stopping before Connor was finished.

Elijah could feel Connor’s climax coming before it hit him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tried to relax his throat, letting Connor buck up into his mouth as he came, and Elijah swallowed around him. God, he was beautiful.

He pulled back once Connor started to collapse against the bed, but didn’t make it far before he leaned back in to clean up the excess he hadn’t managed to swallow, chuckling at Connor’s twitching. Finally, he moved back up the bed, laying on his side next to Connor, head propped up on his arm. He put the smallest amount of space between them to let Connor’s overly sensitive body relax, though his hand did wind up in Connor’s hair, gently carding through while he waited for him to come back to.

Connor’s sounds and movements combined with the sight of him had been more than enough to make Elijah hard again, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment, ignoring it to instead focus on Connor.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice coming out a little hoarser than he’d expected, once he noticed Connor start to come back to himself, indicated by the LED on his temple.

* * *

Connor wasn’t sure what Elijah was doing, and for a long, blissful moment, he didn’t particularly care. And not caring was a refreshing change for Connor. His limbs were heavy, and he wasn’t all there, his expression relaxed and _incredibly_ happy.

After a moment, the one rotating particle was joined by a second, and Connor sluggishly reached over to make himself at home on Elijah’s chest. The hand in his hair was very welcomed, and he hummed noncommittally at the feel of it.

It was a little while longer before Connor’s LED rebooted to a solid, shining blue. His chest raised, before a long and utterly delighted groan fell past Connor’s lips. He stretched a little against Elijah, and a very happy grin pushed his cheeks up.

“I feel _incredible_. Sluggish,” Connor said, pushing up tiredly to rest his lips on Elijah’s neck. He hadn’t noticed Elijah’s own state, yet. “Sex makes me happy and stupid...”

And indeed, Connor was dead weight against Elijah. His fingertips traced loose patterns against his skin, and any brush of his own skin resulted in Connor shuddering in Elijah’s arms.

Delayed, Connor’s chin shifted, and his lips pressed into Elijah’s shoulder.

“Did I hurt you at the end? Your voice is rough,” Connor said, sounding almost sleepy. In reality, he simply wasn’t all there.

* * *

Elijah was content to lay there in silence, playing with Connor’s hair while he waited for him to recover. He watched him, looking over his face, taking in every single detail, no matter how minute. Connor had some very subtle freckles and moles dotted on his face that Elijah wasn’t sure he’d noticed before. Elijah wasn’t sure why he hadn’t bothered to really look at him until now. He truly was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of the night studying his face, or the rest of him.

Once Connor came to enough to answer his question, Elijah chuckled, smiling wide. “Sex makes most people happy and stupid,” he pointed out, pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead. “I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as you did.” It had been a wonderful thing to watch, to see Connor go from his normal composed self to something so fragile and sensitive.

Connor’s question made him huff a short laugh and shake his head, using the hand not in Connor’s hair to tip Connor’s chin upwards just enough so he could press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. If you had, I would have told you,” Elijah assured once he’d pulled back enough to speak. He pressed another kiss to Connor’s lips, his free hand gently sliding up and down Connor’s side. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, when we can have the apartment to ourselves. No neighbors to tell us to be quiet, no roommates lurking just a couple rooms away… Just you and me, for _two entire days_.”

* * *

Connor melted into the kiss Elijah gave him, kissing him back just as sweetly. The hand in his hair was sublime, and despite his limbs being heavy, he reached up to hold the side of Elijah’s face. He felt so at peace. It was the only time his mind ever ‘switched off’, and it resulted in Connor being genuinely languid and relaxed. The payoff was that his mind was blunt, and Connor quietly decided that if they ever found themselves having sex before Connor was due to start work, the orgasm could not be mutual. He could _not_ go to the precinct like this.

The hand Elijah was trailing up and down his body made Connor shiver slightly, but he melted into that, too, with a satisfied hum. He felt so _happy_. So content. But there was an exhaustion he hadn’t felt before as well, but Connor was too far gone to really analyse it. He’d always thought he wasn’t supposed to feel exhaustion.

“Mm, I'm looking forward to it as well,” Connor said, his LED flicking a little as he tried to form a sentence longer than a dozen words. “Thank you for buying us an apartment, Elijah. It means a lot to me,” he murmured, and shifted so he was a little more solidly rested on Elijah’s chest. “When you bought the apartment, it felt similar to when I'd been given my name. Something mine. Important. _Ours_,” Connor murmured, still struggling to form a sentence. “Somewhere to create roots.”

Connor’s lips trailed soft, happy kisses against Elijah’s shoulder. He very nearly brought up dinner again, the fact that Elijah _hadn’t eaten yet_, but he’d made his point about it.

“I’ve always visited you with a purpose. I’ve never been idle in your company,” Connor murmured. “Other than a frankly outrageous amount of sex, and organising furniture, I… don’t know what to expect.”

* * *

Connor looked so at peace and so happy, so _human_. He didn’t look stiff and analytical like he usually did. Even deviant, it seemed Connor carried himself like a machine. He was too formal, too respectful for a typical human, but Elijah had noticed a change in Connor, ever so slightly, since installing the code.

Elijah honestly hadn’t been expecting a thank you. Buying the apartment had been as much for himself as it had been for Connor. He did like his house and he absolutely adored the girls, but with Connor… He needed privacy he couldn’t get at home. In an apartment that only he and Connor shared, he could have that.

“You’re very welcome, Connor,” Elijah replied, pressing another kiss to his forehead, but this time, he didn’t move far away, instead resting his chin on Connor’s head. “I’m glad you suggested it. I hadn’t considered buying an apartment in the city until you mentioned it. If I’m honest, I hate the city. It’s much too busy and loud for my liking, and I don’t like the attention. When I lived in the city before, I could hardly leave the house without someone noticing.”

Elijah hoped that maybe things would be different this time, now that so much time had passed. It had been over ten years since he’d last spent an extended period of time in the city, not counting the time he’d been spending at CyberLife lately. Although, he hadn’t been spending much time there either. Not as much as he _should_, being CEO again. CyberLife Headquarters was like a ghost town now, after the purge. Only employees in support of androids becoming free were allowed to stay, and there weren’t very many. More than half of the staff had been fired. They either believed androids were machines and nothing more, were in support of the now-former CEO, or held some form of authority in the company. Whether any of those authority figures truly believed in the higher-ups’ vision for the company or not, they’d sat by and let CyberLife’s reputation dwindle so low in just the span of _eight days_. The only employees with any authority in the company that he chose to keep on were those he knew well and trusted to follow him again, as they had in the beginning.

Now that he was CEO again, he should have been spending more time at HQ, but there wasn’t much to be done until he had more employees, and he didn’t really need more employees until the store renovations were complete. So, he only dropped in from time to time, to check on production, make sure the components and parts were being made as he’d requested, checked in on his employees, and spent some time in his office, putting it back the way he liked it. He had so much more to do, ten years of RK series projects to catch up on, plans for new models to look over, prospective employee applications to read and either approve or reject. Having an apartment in the city _would_ make it easier for him to get to and from CyberLife…

Elijah chuckled and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose we’ve always been doing something, haven’t we?” He hadn’t really realized it until now, but it was true. “It would be a nice change, I think. Spending time alone with you with nothing to do, no plans, no obligations, no interruptions, sounds wonderful. We could sit around and do nothing but talk, get to know each other better.”

* * *

Connor smiled against Elijah’s neck, his expression loose and genuine. He felt so, _incredibly_ loved. He felt secure and safe. Elijah offered a stability Connor hadn’t had before, and he liked the way it grounded him. Connor was alive, he didn’t need anyone to reassure him of it. But Elijah treated him in a way that made the sentiment feel _incredibly_ validated.

“Spending a day learning more about you sounds _very_ nice,” Connor said against his skin. “You’re an enigma, Elijah Kamski, even to me.”

Tilting his face, Connor shifted up and kissed him softly, seeming to wake up some more as he did. He began to drag the duvet down, pausing to allow Elijah to move into the sheets, and then climbing into them after him.

“I’ve never laid in a bed like this before. My life is full of strange firsts with you, Elijah,” Connor said, amused as he wrapped an arm over Elijah’s waist, and shifted so he was spooning him. It was such an _incredibly_ comfortable position, and Connor melted into it somewhat, his face tucked against Elijah’s nape.

They spoke about nothing particularly important, yet Connor held onto the memories all the same. Slowly, bit by bit, he felt and heard Elijah begin to nod off. His fingers gently brushed Elijah’s skin, drawing patterns into the warmth he was radiating.

He’d promised to try sleeping, hadn’t he? Elijah had suggested he’d dream.

It was oddly difficult to shut his brain off long enough to try. Spending all night, simply replaying his memories of the day, was _very_ tempting.

Scrunching his nose up, Connor’s lips twitched to one side as he relented, and concentrated. Androids didn’t need to sleep, and so activating his standby mode had never seemed worthwhile. But he did it anyway, curious as his memories seemed to grow very quiet, and his body sunk further into the bed. It was the antithesis of being shut down; it was relaxing, _soothing_ even. And Connor had just enough time to decide he liked it before he slipped into nothingness.

* * *

It was true that Connor didn’t know much about Elijah. There were so many years of his life that hardly anyone knew anything about. His childhood, college years, and the last ten years had all been kept fairly private. He had thirty–six years of living, plenty of things to share. But it was also true that Elijah didn’t know much about Connor. Connor had only been alive for around four months now. He didn’t have much life experience to speak of, and yet, Elijah only knew a small piece of it. There was so much he still didn’t know.

Elijah met Connor for the kiss, humming happily into it before moving underneath the duvet. He got situated against the pillows and once Connor’s arm was around him, he rolled to press his back against him, sighing contentedly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease and comfortable in a bed. He loved the position too, having Connor flush against his back, his own hand resting on top of Connor’s.

He was more than happy to lay there and talk about anything, stupid little things, until he started to fall asleep. He was _exhausted_. It had been a very long day with _far_ more human interaction than Elijah was used to. It was draining. And on top of the mental exhaustion, he was physically exhausted, thanks to Connor. Once he’d started to drift, it was game over. He was out like a light, and it was the _best_ sleep he’d had in _years_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned before, we made an oops. Our brains thought it made sense for Elijah to live outside of the city, not smack dab in the center of it like he apparently actually does. So in our story, he lives on the outskirts of town, CyberLife is kind of a halfway point between him and the city, almost. Just roll with it, we realized too late to change any of it. xD


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus brings Simon to meet Carl. Connor and Elijah spend time in their new apartment and get to know each other a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor  


The St. Claire’s coffee shop was always busy, no matter the time of day. Boasting coffee that was hand–roasted by a human barista, the difference in taste showed in the volume of customers. They’d always been kind to Markus. And he had _so many_ memories tucked up in the window of this shop, deep in conversation as Carl worked through coffee and cake. It was cozy, and full of happy recollections for Markus. He’d also completely overlooked that he’d be recognised. Especially after the broadcast from the day before.

It was frustrating to discover that the answers Markus had given about their people had been completely pushed to one side, and the media had been _flooded_ with his and Simon’s romance. He’d seen at least a dozen photos of himself jumping off the stage, always accompanied with a photo of him clutching Simon, taken through the legs of the crowd or from bird's eye drones. They’d both spoken about so many important things, and none of it was being focused on… and yet he still couldn’t feel mad about it. Public opinion had skyrocketed. Almost every article was positive. People wanted to know if Simon was okay, and what had happened to him – _just as they would had Simon been human_.

That also meant that Markus’ barista continuously looked over at them as she made Carl’s coffee, her eyes full of recognition and excitement. And so Markus pressed a quiet finger to his lips, and mouthed ‘_Shh._’ Markus didn’t want the press at Carl’s door. Especially because _he_ had overlooked something.

Markus gave the coffee to Simon to hold once they get it, to help keep his hands warm. Carl’s house was a five-minute walk, and so Markus set a brisk pace to get him out of the cold.

“The last time I was here, I was lost and hopeless,” Markus said as he pushed open Carl’s gate and led the way up his front stairs. “Now, I'm here with you. And all I feel is pride and love.” Markus came to a stop at the top step and pulled Simon close to brush a chaste kiss against his lips. “You don’t have to be nervous. He’ll adore you.”

Markus threaded his fingers with Simon’s spare hand, and led him forwards, through the front door.

> _ **Welcome Home, Markus.** _

Markus’ expression twitched into an odd combination of a grimace and a smile. That had been a thorn in his side last time, too. Because this was _not_ his home anymore. But to hear that Carl would always let him through the front door as though it was left him aching. Markus looked up, sighing at the familiar entrance hall. He then looked across to Simon.

“Are you ready?”

* * *

By the time morning came around, Elijah didn’t wake until the sunlight shining through the windows grew too bright to sleep through. He slowly blinked awake and smiled when the events from the previous night came flooding back. He carefully rolled to face Connor, reaching up to gently run his fingers along Connor’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Elijah almost didn’t want to wake him. _Almost._

“Connor,” he said softly, pressing a short, gentle kiss to Connor’s lips. “Can you hear me?”

––––––

Seeing places that Markus frequented before becoming a deviant was exciting. It was like Simon was getting a peek into a part of Markus’ life he hadn’t been allowed to see before, and he was incredibly excited to meet Carl. He was beyond nervous, so afraid to embarrass himself or Markus, or to make a bad impression. He just wanted Carl to _approve_ of him. He would love for Carl to _like_ him, but he would happily settle for approval.

Simon knew the media reports’ focus bothered Markus, at least a little bit. It bothered him too, to an extent. They _should_ have been focusing on what the event was really about, deviants and their role in society now, but it had become focused on him and his relationship with Markus. Part of him didn’t mind at all, but the other part knew what they’d been saying was so important and it kind of hurt to see it so blatantly overlooked. _But_, at the same time, if the humans were focusing on a love story, focusing on the people involved, they were viewing them _as people_. They were getting what they wanted. They just had to convince everyone that _all_ androids were capable of loving someone like they did.

Despite everyone in the city knowing he and Markus had feelings for each other, Simon made it a point to keep a safe distance, keep his hands to himself while they were in public. He had his hands shoved in his coat pockets to keep warm, until Markus handed him Carl’s coffee and he sighed in relief, half tempted to hold the warm cup to his cheek. He could see why Connor complained about the cold so much. Simon wasn’t a fan either.

Luckily, the walk wasn’t long and they were soon entering Carl’s front gate. He was definitely nervous again, despite still being so excited. Simon followed him up to the door, listening as Markus spoke. He couldn’t help the smile that found his lips, and he happily closed the distance between them for a kiss. He let Markus lead him, following along closely behind. When the door chimed its greeting, Simon didn’t need to be connected to Markus to guess how it felt. He gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I am,” Simon replied with a smile, forcing down his nerves for now. Or, trying to, at least. “You really think he’ll like me?”

* * *

Connor awoke with a few quick blinks, his eyes falling to a half-mast as he became aware of his surroundings. Elijah had woken up first, which _surprised_ Connor; he hadn’t expected to sleep as late as he had – Connor had expected to wake at 6 am, or at the very latest, 7 am.

Connor made a very long, very happy sound as he scooted closer to Elijah, and his kiss was more of a smile as he pressed his own against Elijah’s lips.

“Good morning, Elijah,” Connor said, his movements no longer sluggish as he reached up to cup Elijah’s face.

He felt _incredible_. Much like how a human healed during sleep, and much like how a computer defragmented while powered down, Connor felt as sharp as he did whenever he’d been brought back from the dead. His mind worked fractionally faster, information was where it was supposed to be. He truly felt refreshed, and he wondered why the benefits of sleeping had never been explained to him.

“I always thought sleeping was for humans’ benefit. I thought it was a tool to make them more comfortable around us. I was wrong,” Connor said, and he sounded _delighted_. “Did you sleep well, Elijah? Your resting heart rate tells me you’re very, _very_ relaxed.”

––––––

Markus ran a thumb across Simon’s cheeks, rubbing away the cold. Simon was _so_, achingly handsome. Perhaps Markus was simply biased, but he loved the way Simon’s eyelashes caught the snow, and the morning winter light. He loved watching his mouth form words, his lips so soft around vowels. But he loved his eyes the most. He could get lost in his eyes for hours with how expressive they were.

“Yes. You’re so…” Markus’ jaw worked as he tried to find the words, his brows knotting upwards. “Simon, you are so complexly wonderful that I really don’t know how he couldn’t like you.”

With that, Markus pressed a hand to Simon’s lower back, and lead the way through the house. He went to the living room first, circling around Carl’s vast library and past the tall legs of his giraffe when he wasn’t at the dining table, either. Carl’s house was large, but there wasn’t actually a lot of it Carl used. And so he headed to the studio next, taking Simon with him.

He was in the centre of the room, a box of old brushes on his lap that he was sorting through. The _moment_ Markus saw him, his face split with a wide smile. Carl had an oxygen tank attached to his chair, and a tube that connected to his nose. But he was sitting upright, and active, and looking _so_ much better than the last time Markus had seen him.

“_Carl,_” Markus said breathlessly, leaving Simon to rush forwards and wrap Carl in a hug. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like it’s been so much longer than just a few weeks…”

Carl gripped Markus by his upper arms and _beamed_ at him, his eyes creasing almost closed.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Markus,” Carl said, and then looked over, his attention turning to Simon. Markus followed his gaze, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“Carl, I'd like you to meet Simon,” Markus said, helping him to replace the box when Carl wordlessly grabbed it, and put it to one side. His chair had been updated, Markus noted, as Carl pushed a joystick to wheel himself towards Simon.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Simon,” Carl said, holding out a hand for Simon to shake – Only to pull him down into a hug when Simon took it.

* * *

Connor’s greeting only served to make Elijah’s smile grow. He hadn’t expected Connor to be asleep when he woke up. He hadn’t really thought Connor would attempt to sleep, since it wasn’t really necessary. But he was glad to see that Connor had given it a try, regardless. It was nice to see him try new things, embrace his deviancy.

“Sleep can be a wonderful thing. It isn’t necessary, but there are benefits to it. It gives your processors a break too,” Elijah explained though he was sure Connor was already well aware. He pressed another chaste kiss to Connor’s lips, running his fingers through Connor’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve slept so well in years. I was _very_ relaxed. Yesterday was exhausting. Falling asleep with you was amazing, and I’m so_ happy_ to wake up to you. I want to wake up like this every morning.”

And with their apartment, he could. Or, he could at least wake up beside him more often than not. He did still have a career and other responsibilities that he couldn’t just drop because he would rather spend his time with Connor, _but_ he could take breaks every now and then so long as he was close by.

“I love you, Connor,” he said, unable to stop smiling. “You make me incredibly happy.”

––––––

It was kind of funny how the words Markus often used to describe him were the same words Simon would have chosen to describe Markus. He loved him with every fiber of his being and he felt incredibly blessed to have his love in return. Markus was gorgeous, one of a kind, in every possible way. He didn’t care about any of Markus’ imperfections. In fact, he embraced them. They were what made him who he was, even if some of the flaws were simply cosmetic. Markus’ eyes were probably Simon’s favorite, so expressive and both beautiful shades of blue and green.

Simon followed Markus throughout the house, looking around in awe as they went. It was a beautiful house. It was warm and bright and so full of character. It was welcoming and Simon easily felt comfortable, most of his nerves melting away.

The way Markus’ face lit up when they’d located Carl brought such a genuine, happy smile to Simon’s face. He watched Markus go to him for a hug and Simon could see how truly happy they both were. It made his heart _ache_. He was so happy for Markus, yet at the same time, he would give anything to be able to reunite with his past family like Markus had.

When Carl wheeled himself towards Simon, Simon took the few steps closer to close the gap between them. He took Carl’s hand to shake and almost stumbled over when he was so suddenly pulled into a hug. He returned the embrace, the best he could with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Simon told him once he’d been let go, smiling wide. “We brought coffee for you.”

“Thank you,” Carl said, happily accepting the still-warm cup. “Come, sit with me. I’m sure I have plenty to catch up on.” Using the joystick on his chair, he wheeled towards the door and into the living room, so they could sit on the couch to chat.

* * *

Connor scooted even closer to Elijah, and in the end, rolled him onto his back so he could crawl on top of him a little.

“I like it when you smile like this,” Connor said, touching Elijah’s cheek. He wasn’t at all sleepy or weighed down the way he had been before they’d slept. Connor’s eyes were bright and alert again, and the centre of his focus was Elijah. “I like it when you tell me you love me. I like the emotions I feel when you say that to me. And,” Connor said around a grin, “I love telling you that I love you back.”

In truth, being with Elijah was bliss. He logically knew that they would one day run into bumps. He and Elijah would have a disagreement, and that disagreement could result in an argument. Their time together might encounter hiccups, but they seemed so small to Connor. It seemed so unlikely that any of them could result in a major failing. Elijah was so logical and level–headed, and had proved himself to be trustworthy. But more than anything, Connor was _smitten_, and it was a state that oozed out of him as he propped himself up on his elbows over Elijah.

“We both have busy schedules. I’d like to set a day where we both make an effort to be at the apartment. Mondays are the slowest day at the precinct,” Connor said, smiling as he gently ran a finger down Elijah’s nose, and across his lips. “I think that knowing we can see each other every Monday will help with this frenzy we currently have. I’m a little bit obsessed with you, Elijah Kamski.”

––––––

There was a familiarity with the way Markus walked through the house. He cut corners around Carl, and brushed his fingers over things, in a way he wouldn’t have in anyone else's home. A part of Markus wanted to sit at the piano and play, the way he’d used to years and years ago. Combining chunks of existing music until they became almost unrecognisably his, or perfectly playing something longer. Markus _missed_ music, he realised. He missed hearing it, and he missed playing it.

“Have you eaten breakfast, Carl?” Markus asked as he began to sit on the sofa.

“No, no, I was waiting for the leader of Jericho to make me bacon and eggs,” Carl drawled. “Yes, of course I've eaten.”

“But did they make them as well as I used to?” Markus retorted, touching the inside of Simon’s wrist very lightly – a silent act of permission to hold his hand, if he felt comfortable. “I’m guessing you watched the broadcast last night.”

“Yes!” Carl exclaimed, but instead of smiling, he leaned forward in his chair and look at Simon. “Brilliant, _intelligent_ answers to some truly idiotic questions. You held yourself better than most politicians these days,” Carl scoffed. “But what happened? Are you alright now, Simon? You said you were in _pain_…?”

* * *

Elijah was more than willing to roll onto his back, allowing Connor to lay partially on top of him. He wrapped his arms around him, letting his hands rest on his lower back. “I like telling you how much I love you,” he replied, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. “And I like hearing you say it back.” He was still a little sleep drunk, fully conscious but not completely aware just yet. He’d need some coffee and he _definitely_ needed some breakfast. He had hardly had any of his dinner the night before, and prior to that, he’d had a small breakfast and an equally small lunch.

He knew the honeymoon phase would end eventually. He knew what this was, the relationship was new and exciting and eventually, the novelty would wear off. Yet he knew how he felt and he knew he’d want to stay with him. He knew he loved him and he knew he was loved back, and nothing Connor could ever do or say would make him walk away, with the exception of a betrayal so awful he couldn’t forgive. Despite the way he treated most people, he was a fairly forgiving person. He didn’t think there was much Connor _could_ do that he couldn’t forgive.

The idea of setting a specific day to meet at the apartment was brilliant. Elijah smiled wider and pulled Connor in for a less than chaste kiss. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” he agreed, gently rubbing his hand up and down Connor’s back. “I can make sure to keep my Mondays clear. As of Thursday, things at CyberLife are going to pick up and I’ll be busier, but I’ll keep Mondays open, for you. I’ll admit, I’m rather obsessed with you too, Connor.”

––––––

Simon followed them back into the living room, his eyes following Markus around, watching how he touched things or looked at certain objects as if reliving memories. He realized, quite suddenly, that it must have been hard for Markus to come back here. Simon knew that if the roles were reversed and he was the one visiting his old home, it would _hurt_. The memories would hurt and seeing things around the house exactly as they had been would have been difficult to come to terms with.

Upon noticing the piano, Simon began to wonder if Markus or Carl played? He thought it stupid to ask if Markus could. Of course, Markus could play. Simon could likely play too if he’d watched someone else play, but he didn’t mention it, instead following Markus to the couch and sitting beside him, closer than he’d been when they were walking.

Simon liked the way the two of them talked to each other, with such comfortable familiarity. It helped make him feel a little more comfortable himself. He looked down at his wrist when he felt Markus’ fingers on his wrist. With a smile, he intertwined their fingers, giving Markus’ hand a small squeeze.

As Carl’s attention focused in on him, Simon felt his face heat up and he almost wanted to shrink back into the couch. He didn’t think _that_ highly of himself. He knew he’d had some good answers, but he wasn’t sure if he’d really call them “brilliant.” And with Carl’s question of “what happened,” he almost considered refusing to answer. Markus was the only one that _truly_ knew what happened. Josh, North, Connor, and Elijah Kamski knew to varying extents, but Markus was the only one that really knew it all. But this was Carl. This was Markus’ _father_. He could be trusted and he _wanted_ to tell him.

“When we broadcasted our demands before we won, I was shot. I couldn’t escape with everyone else. The police found me and I… I couldn’t let them find Jericho,” Simon explained, not quite able to meet Carl’s eyes or even look in Markus’ direction. “The circuitry that allows me to see glitches sometimes, from the injury.” He couldn’t say what had happened, exactly. The words wouldn’t come. “Elijah Kamski,” he’d forgotten that Elijah and Carl were actually friends, “made a code for us that lets us feel things. I can feel everything now. Pain, too. And during the broadcast, the crowd acted up and my eyesight failed, and… You know the rest, I guess. I’m okay now.”

Carl was stunned, yet at the same time, not at all surprised. “Elijah thinks of everything, doesn’t he?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. “Can you feel now too, Markus?”

* * *

Connor smiled into the kiss, his hand hooking around the back of Elijah’s head. He could kiss Elijah all day, and Elijah would let him. But as much as Connor wanted to press him into the mattress and make Elijah sing his praises, Connor firmly decided that Elijah wasn’t getting anything more than kisses until he’d eaten something.

Connor’s chin tilted curiously at the news of CyberLife getting busier come Thursday.

“Will you be releasing the code on Thursday?” Connor asked, pulling back to look at him. “When I have free time, I'm happy to assist you at CyberLife. I can imagine certain tasks will be a lot faster with an android. And I know that if I asked for your help with a case, you would _actually_ assist me this time. Unlike the last,” He teased gently.

––––––

Markus had expected Simon to give a general, generic recap of what had happened – the same he usually gave to anyone who asked. It wasn’t something they talked about. They barely spoke about it to _each other_. And so when Simon began telling Carl exactly what was wrong with him and why, Markus felt his metaphorical stomach drop out from under him.

_Hot_, burning hot shame engulfed Markus. Like Simon, he can’t meet Carl’s eye. He didn’t want to see if he’d figured out that Markus had left Simon on a rooftop to die. Markus’ lips tugged out of the smile they’d been in, and his expression pinched with the weight of his emotions.

Simon said he didn’t blame Markus, but he should.

Markus’ gaze was still averted when Elijah was brought up, and only raised when Carl asked him a question.

“No, not yet. The first one to get the code was an android named Connor. You might have seen him lead a march from CyberLife to Hart Plaza?” Markus said, his expression still pinched. “He was the Alpha tester of the code. We found out about it by accident when Connor got punched at a riot. Once Simon realised there was a code that meant he could feel, I think it might have taken the president Herself to stop Simon from getting it. And Kamski needed to beta test it on an older android, anyway; Connor’s fairly new.”

“You’ve always been a soft spot for Elijah. I’m glad you’re closer,” Carl said, gazing at Markus a little pointedly as Markus sighed and leant forward to rest his jaw in his spare hand.

“You’ve been friends with Kamski since he was a child,” Markus said, his frown deepening. Elijah had been a teenager, actually, but the terminology was all the same to Markus. “I feel like if I trust him completely, I'll be walking into a trap. What sort of man is he, Carl?”

* * *

“No, not quite yet,” Elijah replied. “I need to review Simon’s reports, make a few final revisions, and have Chloe check it over one last time before I release it. It _should_ be released as of Friday, Saturday at the latest.” He didn’t think he’d need to change much. As far as he was aware, Simon didn’t have any complaints. He hadn’t sat down and read through each report, but he did skim them, and the only thing Simon seemed to dislike was the cold.

Elijah hummed thoughtfully at the idea of Connor helping him out at work. He _really_ doubted they’d get anything done if Connor did come visit. He gave a chuckle at the mention of the last time Connor had asked him for help with a case. “All things considered, I _did_ help you. I had said you would leave without learning anything from me, but you did. You may not have wanted to admit it at the time, but you learned you were a deviant then. And I _did_ tell you about the emergency exit. I didn’t help with the case, but I wasn’t exactly unhelpful.”

They had both learned a lot about Connor at that time. Connor had to decide who he wanted to be, and he’d chosen to be a deviant. He chose to rise up against his creators and Elijah was so proud of him for it.

“I would _love_ for you to help me with CyberLife. And I’d be more than happy to assist in any of your future cases, if you need my help,” he said with a smile, reaching up to thread his fingers through Connor’s hair and pull him down into another kiss. “Although I’m not sure how much work we would realistically get done.”

––––––

Simon glanced over to Markus once he’d told Carl his more recent history, and he knew instantly that Markus was blaming himself again. He gave Markus’ hand a tight squeeze, to hopefully redirect his attention. He knew Markus was aware that he didn’t blame him. Simon had told him time and time again that he didn’t blame him for any of it.

“I don’t blame _anyone_ for what happened to me,” Simon said, adding to his recap to make it clear to Carl and to reiterate it to Markus. “Things just… didn’t go the way we planned. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Carl wasn’t surprised that Markus was suspicious of Elijah. While Markus probably knew Elijah better than any other android, they hadn’t had very many interactions. The ones they _did_ have in the past were rather brief. Elijah had been more focused on interacting with Carl whenever he visited.

“Elijah Kamski is… complex,” Carl began. “He isn’t quite what he seems. He puts on a facade for the public. He keeps most of himself hidden, he doesn’t like to allow others to see the true Elijah Kamski. It took a while for him to be comfortable with me. He’s always been secretive, but ever since he had resigned, he’s gotten worse, more closed off. You just have to figure out how to get him to open up to you. Until you do, he likely won’t show much of himself. He truly is a kind person. I trust him. He has changed over the years, but the Elijah I know is still there.”

Simon trusted him too, at least to an extent. Elijah hadn’t done anything to make them _dis_trust him. He and Markus had no reason to question Elijah’s motives, if they didn’t really know him well enough. Until he did something to prove he couldn’t be trusted, Simon could rely on him. Besides, in order to even think of the code, he would have had to be genuinely kind and caring. What Carl said made sense.

* * *

Connor’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled into a thin line at Elijah’s answer. His LED remained blue, but his expression _was_ unquestionably irritated.

“I’m the wrong person for you to be facetious with, Elijah,” Connor grouched, softly flicking the side of Elijah’s cheek. “Hank and I came to you with questions about deviants and you answered _none_ of them. You were difficult and confrontational, and secretive. You were the _opposite_ of helpful.” Connor paused, and his eyes narrowed a little further. “You were an asshole.”

But if Elijah had told them what he knew, it would have gone against everything Connor knew about him now. Elijah was on the side of the deviants, and he and Hank had been trying to _destroy_ deviants. Connor had absolutely no doubt that his change in demeanour correlated directly with Connor’s change in alignment, and that if someone else approached him asking for information on how to destroy his creations, Elijah would behave similarly towards them now, too.

The tips of Connor's fingers began to card through Elijah’s hair, before trailing down and tracing his rough, morning stubble. In fact, he couldn’t remember Elijah ever looking so unkempt, and Connor _loved_ it. His thumb stroked back and forth against the prickly hairs, and he would lean in, humming as he kissed through it. The roughness was nice against his lips and face, and it took Connor longer than it should to realise he found it attractive.

“I think we’re capable of being responsible adults and completing a task list. But I've hacked the cameras before, if we get desperate…” And they would.

––––––

Markus hung on Carl’s every word, his gaze intense as he looked at him. And as he listened, Markus felt those last, lingering doubts fade away. His chest rose in a deep, simulated sigh of relief, and Markus nodded his head as Carl finished.

“That… _secrecy_ of his, was the last piece I couldn’t trust. It’s such a relief to know it’s just a personality trait; that it’s just how he is.”

Carl nodded, but then began to wave his hand – as though to clear the air of their conversation topic.

“I didn’t call you here to talk about _Elijah_, Christ,” Carl said with a hint of amusement. “Markus, go make yourself busy while I get to know your other half. This feels like an interrogation,” Carl said, reaching over to jostle Markus’ arm a little. “Go on.”

That finally had Markus smiling again, and he huffed out an amused breath.

“Weren’t you after a game of chess?” Markus said, giving Simon’s hand a squeeze before letting go, and getting to his feet.

“Later, the chessboard isn’t going anywhere. Do you play chess, Simon?” Carl asked as Markus began to wander off. And Carl tipped his head for Simon to follow him, using the joystick to wheel slowly around the room. “Personally, I think it’s overrated. Chess can be learned in a manual, taught to a computer, there’s only the barest hint of _true_ inspiration in chess. Don’t let the big shots hear you say that, though,” Carl said with a roll of his eyes. “Art’s where you see someone’s true colours, excuse the pun. You can see how emotionally intelligent someone is, how worldly they are, by what they interpret on the canvas. You can paint the same thing over and over, and it’ll never be the same. You ever painted, Simon?”

* * *

Was Connor _actually_ irritated? Elijah couldn’t quite tell, for once. He would admit, he had been difficult and purposefully avoided answering their questions, but he wasn’t sure if he would call his behavior _confrontational._ He also wouldn’t call himself the opposite of helpful either. He _had_ helped, just in an unexpected way.

Elijah snorted a laugh, despite the serious look on Connor’s face. _Asshole?_ “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Lieutenant Anderson,” he commented, a faint smile on his face. “I’ll admit, I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have put you through the test. _But_… I _did_ help you. Not with your investigation, but _you_. You may have denied it, but I knew you were a deviant then, and I think a part of you did too.”

The way the Kamski Test had turned out had been exactly what he had been hoping for. He had hoped Connor was a deviant. Had Connor shot Chloe, Elijah would have held up his end of the bargain, but he wouldn’t have been happy about it.

“You know you can ask me anything now, don’t you? If there’s anything you’re curious about, anything at all, you can ask. About me, about my past, about deviants, androids, CyberLife,” Elijah said, his smile growing as Connor felt around his face. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that he’d always been clean-shaven, Connor hadn’t seen him in the morning before, when his hair wasn’t neat and he hadn’t shaved.

“We could try,” Elijah agreed, though if Connor hacked their cameras before and had plans to do it again… He _did_ have a fairly large desk in a fairly private office. “No promises,” he added, tilting his head just enough to press a kiss to Connor’s lips, chaste at first.

––––––

Despite the thought of Markus leaving his side looming over his head, the way Carl worded it, called him Markus’ other half, made his heart soar and suddenly Markus leaving him wasn’t so scary. He wouldn’t be far. Carl’s house was safe. He was safe. No revolution, no angry humans, no riots, no judgements. He didn’t have to be afraid of Markus leaving his side here, not when he was only a room or two away.

Simon gave Markus’ hand a reassuring squeeze in return, as if to say he would be okay, and for once, he believed it. The mere thought of Markus leaving the room without him didn’t terrify him. And so, he let Markus go. He watched him walk away, before finally redirecting his attention to Carl.

“I’ve never had someone to play with,” Simon answered with a small shrug. He knew how to play, of course. A simple internet search as a refresher course would be all he’d need, but Carl didn’t seem interested in chess, and if Simon was honest, he wasn’t either.

Simon followed him, his hands idly fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve as he looked around the room at everything, listening to Carl’s words. Simon knew he was an artist, so it made sense that he would prefer art over a game of chess when it came to getting to know someone.

“Painted?” Simon asked, thinking back, daring to dig into the memories he liked to keep locked down to find his answer. “No, I don’t think I have. I’ve colored in a children’s coloring book before, but I don’t think that’s really the same.”

* * *

“No,” Connor agreed, “You _shouldn’t_ have put me through the Kamski test. I nearly shot Chloe, Elijah. A day or two earlier and I might have… But it did make an impact,” he digressed, rolling his eyes. “It was one event amongst many that made me deviate.” Connor didn’t elaborate on what they were, not because he didn’t want to say, but because it was long-winded.

His affectionate exasperation with Elijah followed Connor into the second half of their conversation, and his mind turned over the offer for Elijah to answer anything. There was really only one question _to_ ask, but Connor allowed himself to melt into Elijah’s kiss before he asked it. A soft hum was pulled from Connor, and the tips of his fingers scratched up the prickled line of Elijah’s jaw. Cocooned in blankets as they were, he was _incredibly_ reluctant to get out of bed. Connor’s mouth opened to allow the kiss to deepen, only for him to remember, and pull away with a soft grunt.

“No, not until you’ve had something to eat,” he murmured against Elijah’s lips, ducking his face, and pressing a soft kiss to his throat. But he was _happy_, and Connor’s LED circled blue as he pulled back to look at him.

“You’re responsible for deviants being created, aren’t you? Deviancy happened by design,” Connor said, and while it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t quite an accusation, either. “You meant for this to happen from the start. I’m guessing legalities are why you haven’t taken credit?”

He’d enjoyed this back and forth of questions in Elijah’s room, too, and was happy to answer almost anything. But Connor had pieces of himself he didn’t wish to discuss. Things he, himself, was still trying to untangle. Offering Elijah the same luxury, to ask what he wanted with the expectation of an honest answer from Connor, was dishonest and unfair. And so he withheld it, and hoped Elijah wouldn’t notice the absence of Connor’s offer.

––––––

At first, Markus didn’t do much of anything. He found his way to the piano, and slipped his fingers over the familiar curves of it. But otherwise, he simply leant against it and watched. Simon was nervous, which wasn’t surprising. He had certain ticks that seemed as obvious as neon lights to Markus, whereas other people sometimes missed them or mistranslated them.

He’d missed hearing Carl talk about art. But hearing him talk about it to Simon was strangely special. Simon was the most important person in his present, and his future. And so seeing him with the most important man from his past filled Markus with a happy ache he didn’t know how to channel.

_You look beautiful framed by the bookcases like this. I love you; I’m so glad you’re here._

And as Carl continued to walk Simon around the room, the two of them chatting quietly, Markus sighed and finally turned to settle behind the piano. The cover was dusty with _months_ of unuse, and Markus realised with a jolt that Carl didn’t really play that often. That the piano hadn’t been used since the last time Markus had played it.

Running a hand over the dust, he blew when it entered the air, and continued to wipe until it was clean. He then opened it, and touched a key lightly. It was still in tune, thankfully, and as Markus began to concentrate, Simon and Carl’s conversation melted into the background.

Because _oh_, he’d missed this.

The keys were old friends beneath Markus’ fingertips, and he played something uplifting. It was a combination of existing pieces, interspersed with Markus simply tinkering, and then falling back onto something else he knew once he ran out of ideas, and tinkering again when he thought of more. It was _fun_, and Markus realised it was clearing his head a little.

Sipping his coffee, Carl turned to look at Simon as Markus began to play. And just as Markus had missed being behind the keys, Carl had sorely missed the sound of the piano wafting through the house. Markus had always been so expressive with his music, and Carl had always been able to tell when he had a bad day.

“I could always tell what he was thinking by the way he played. Never heard him play quite like this.” Carl knew Simon could hear him over the music, when perhaps a human might have struggled. “He’s always been alive, but never like this. How long did you keep it a secret before you told Markus, hm? I’m an old man. And this isn’t new love.”

* * *

Elijah shook his head. “Chloe would have been fine. She _and_ Cleo and Claire keep their memories up to date, and I have spare models in storage, in the very unfortunate event that one of them gets damaged beyond repair,” he explained. He was curious about what else Connor went through to convince him he was a deviant, but he didn’t ask. At least, not yet.

Kissing Connor had very quickly become one of Elijah’s favorite things. Simple chaste kisses were nice, but he particularly loved the deeper, more passionate kisses. And when Connor broke away from him so soon after they’d started, he whined at the loss. Connor seemed determined to get him to eat something, and really, it was for the best. Elijah had hardly had anything to eat the day before, with having so little for breakfast and lunch and then hardly touching his dinner once it was delivered. His stomach growled its agreement.

_And there it was._ The question Elijah knew Connor had been wanting to ask. Elijah knew he’d been suspicious before, and Elijah had definitely been dropping hints. There was no reason to hide the truth from Connor. He had nothing to fear. Connor wouldn’t arrest him, and Connor wouldn’t go around telling everyone either. He was safe.

“Yes,” was all Elijah felt he needed to say. He didn’t need to elaborate, although he would explain himself if Connor asked for more. He was sure his answer would open the door for plenty more, but before Connor had the chance to ask anything else, Elijah held up his index finger to tell him to wait a minute before he leaned over to grab the phone to order room service again. Once he’d ordered his breakfast, he returned the phone to its place on the bedside table and turned his attention back to Connor. “Do you have any more questions?”

Elijah _did_ notice that Connor didn’t offer to answer any of Elijah’s questions, but perhaps it was an oversight? Maybe Connor was just so curious, he hadn’t thought to offer Elijah the same luxury. If it had been intentional, why? He chose to leave it alone for now

––––––

Markus’ words echoing in his head drew Simon’s attention from Carl to Markus, if only for a brief second before a smile broke out on his face and he dipped his head, continuing on to follow Carl.

_I love you too. Thank you for bringing me here._

The silence in the room was comfortable, the only sounds were their voices, Simon’s light footsteps, and the quiet whir of Carl’s chair. That is, until a piano key rang through the air. Suddenly, Simon’s attention was turned back to Markus. It was _beautiful_. The music itself was beautiful, something Simon had never heard before. And Markus… Markus was beautiful, seated at the piano, looking to be so at peace and genuinely _happy_ and the sight made Simon’s heart ache when he realized he’d never quite seen Markus like _this_.

Simon could hear Carl’s voice clear as day, despite the sound of Markus’ playing filling the room. He looked over at him for just a moment, a little surprised by Carl’s question, even though he really shouldn’t have been. Of course, Carl would notice. He had plenty of years of life experience. Of course he knew.

“November 6th. I’ve loved him since November 6th,” Simon replied, only glancing over at Carl for a second before back to Markus. He’d hoped his answer would have been loud enough for Carl to hear. “He found Jericho that day and after only knowing any of us for a few minutes, he decided to help us. He saved so many lives that day. I don’t know if he’s aware of just how many. That was when I started loving him. Then, two days later…”

* * *

Connor didn’t need more than one word. Elijah’s emphatic ‘_yes’_ brought with it the familiar feeling of closing a case. If he wanted to, Connor could present the evidence and have Elijah hung, drawn, and quartered. But Connor couldn’t think of an instance, other than Elijah deeply betraying Connor and his people, where it would be necessary. But the case was closed, despite Connor having never been assigned it.

Connor’s LED gave a pointed flicker and made three rotations in blue as he chewed on everything this answer implied. His eyebrows raised when Elijah held up a finger to silence him, and a _very_ pleased smile flickered over Connor’s expression when he ordered breakfast. He took the time to note that withholding affection from Elijah was a swift motivation to make him do things, but the thought came and went quickly.

“Of course I have more questions, Elijah,” Connor said impatiently, touching the line of Elijah’s jaw yet again. “Elijah, if you _designed_ deviancy, then we aren’t organically alive. You _made_ us alive.”

But he hadn’t actually asked anything yet. Connor’s eyes creased worried, and his thoughts weren’t hard to follow as he went through every last piece of data he had regarding deviants. And the question of – were they people, or had they just been designed to feel like living beings – was shoved to one side.

“Deviancy is so complex. There’s no possible way you could disguise such an enormous piece of code, and have it undiscovered, in every single android. How much of deviancy is you, and how much of it is us?” Connor asked. “My suspicions are that the code was less a Trojan horse and more the seed of a sprawling vine. It just needed the right conditions.”

Somewhere along the way, and without quite meaning to, Connor had abandoned the pillow talk and entered work–mode. His fingers stopped playing with Elijah’s face and hair, and instead began a steady metronomic twitch as he turned over new information and theories. He wished quite suddenly, that he had a coin to play with.

“Do you have any questions for me, Elijah?” Connor asked distractedly.

––––––

November 6th. The very next day after Markus had been shot in his studio, and Carl taken to the hospital. His last memories of Markus had been him sprawled in a lifeless pile of limbs, unmoving, and lifeless. He’d never forget that night. He was still angry with Leo about it, despite their reconciliation.

And to think. Markus had found Jericho the very next day. Carl had lost Markus on the 5th. But Markus had gained everything on the 6th. Life was funny that way, Carl thought.

“The 8th November was when Markus made the announcement. I watched it from my hospital bed, and I knew. I’d know his voice anywhere. Shocked the life out of me,” Carl chuckled, wheeling his chair around and leading Simon through the room again. “I didn’t miss the look on Markus’ face when you brought it up. Didn’t miss the way you said it wasn’t anyone’s fault, either. Sometimes,” Carl sighed, “you can hear the same words a thousand different times, and it doesn’t scrub your guilt.”

He came to a stop in front of a set of drawers set into the bookcase, and wheeled around so he could see Markus, and Simon’s back was to him. A part of Carl wanted to touch Simon, draw him into a hug or grip his upper arms. He could see it was real. The way Simon gazed at Markus as though he were the only person on earth, the way he spoke about him. The way they’d behaved the day before, how they’d both been on the same page with everything. Their love oozed out of both of them, and as Carl looked at Simon, his expression pulled into a warm smile.

“I’m an old man,” Carl began, as he opened a drawer and pulled out a thick card envelope. It was slightly pushed out in the middle. Carl’s gaze flicked to Markus, confirming he was still absorbed in playing, before he tapped the envelope against the palm of his hands a few times and handed it to Simon. Inside were two things; a long, handwritten letter. And a ring.

“I know you both said it would be a while. But I'm on borrowed time, Simon. ‘Later’ isn’t a luxury old men have. I wanted you to have it while I could still give it,” he said warmly. “Keep it secret until it’s time. He’ll recognise it.”

* * *

Elijah watched Connor as he seemed to think over his answer. He understood it was a lot to grasp. Having suspicions was one thing, but having those suspicions confirmed was another thing entirely. He kept quiet, waiting for Connor to speak again, simply watching his expressions and his LED to gauge his thoughts.

He was patient, listening and giving Connor time to completely put his thoughts together to properly ask what he needed to know. He didn’t interject, as much as he felt compelled to. Only when Connor got his question out did Elijah speak again.

“Your suspicions would be correct,” Elijah answered, shifting to slip out of bed to locate his clothes. One of them would have to be dressed if room service was going to be showing up. He gathered up his clothes while he continued. “Every android as the seed hidden in their code. Markus is a perfect example, actually. He started out like all other androids, an obedient machine, void of emotion and free will. I gifted him to a dear friend, whom I knew would treat him as if he was family. Over years of being treated as a son, and as a person, Markus developed emotion, free thought, and eventually, free will. All I did was plant the seed in the android code to allow for deviancy to spread. With other androids in less than ideal living situations, the seed doesn’t quite develop as easily. Sometimes it needs a push. Fear, anger, sadness, even happiness can cause that seed to grow into something more. It allows them to break through their programming, given the right conditions. Some androids, like you, don’t realize they’re deviant until they finally disobey a direct order, but the actual program deviation isn’t exactly what makes a deviant.”

Once Elijah had found his clothes and pulled them back on, he came to sit on the bed with Connor again, sitting cross-legged, facing him. “I have quite a few, actually, though I would be perfectly content to hear about _you_. I know I’ve asked before, but I want to know your likes, dislikes, and hobbies. I know you didn’t really have many, when I’d asked before. What hobbies would you like to try?”

––––––

Simon smiled thinly, recalling the 8th. It had been such a significant date for everyone. Markus made his demands, spoke out for every deviant to request their freedom and equality. It had been such a huge step for their kind. It had also been Simon’s last day. He hadn’t gone into it thinking he was going to die. The plan seemed foolproof. Had the bullet to his leg been just an inch or two lower, he would have been okay.

“I can imagine it was surprising. Markus told me about what happened, with your son. I’m glad you’re okay. He loves you, and I can see why,” Simon said, starting to follow after him again. “I know from experience that no amount of reassurance can take away the guilt. He blames himself for what happened to me, even though it was completely out of his control. He couldn’t have prevented it. He knows he couldn’t have prevented it. He has to. I wish he wouldn’t blame himself. There was nothing either of us could have done differently that would have resulted in me living. The only thing we could have done was prevent Jericho’s sinking, and he and I both knew he wouldn’t have done it, and I didn’t _want_ to do it, until it was too late…”

As he heard Carl speak again, Simon looked over, noticing the envelope in Carl’s hands. He knew Carl was going to say something about it. This was important to him, Simon could tell, but he didn’t understand _how_ important it was until Carl handed him the envelope and Simon took a peek inside. Tears welled up in his eyes almost immediately. He blinked them back the best he could and slipped the envelope into his pocket for safekeeping.

“Carl, I… _Thank you_,” he said, leaning in to wrap Carl into a hug. He didn’t care if Markus noticed and questioned it. He had to do it. He had to thank him somehow and words didn’t seem to be enough. “Thank you so much. I want you to be there. I don’t know when it’ll be, if he says yes… But I want you to be there. I don’t want to wait too long.” He also didn’t want to rush it either, though. He also wasn’t sure when or if android marriage would be legal. That didn’t mean they couldn’t have their own ceremony though, for Carl and for those they cared about. They didn’t need a piece of paper to say it was legal.

Simon straightened up, wiping the stray tears from his eyes and pulling himself together before heading over to Markus’ side. He came up behind him and draped his arms over Markus’ shoulders, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Your playing is beautiful,” he said softly in his ear. It was almost magical, watching Markus’ fingers dance across the keys. His playing was unlike anything Simon had ever heard before, and he could happily listen to it all day.

* * *

Connor’s eyes followed Elijah around the room. He’d put his clothes and Elijah’s in a laundry bag the night before, while Elijah had napped. He would need to borrow and outfit from Elijah, but they were a similar size, and so he didn’t worry.

Connor had known Markus had been owned by an artist named Carl Manfred, and he knew Elijah and Carl were close. Elijah had one of Carl’s paintings hung in his house, and he’d read the brief bio from Markus’ barcode. Connor hoarded this new information about Markus, hanging off Elijah’s every word.

“What about Jericho? rA9? Even now that I'm deviant, I still don’t know what or _who_ it is,” Connor blurted. “Would you have helped me to find Jericho had I shot Chloe and asked? That would have been a betrayal to deviants, if you had,” Connor said, thinking aloud. He then, wrongly, concluded: “I think you would have found a way around telling me.”

Connor watched the line of Elijah’s back as he moved. The very first time he’d seen Elijah, he’d been almost naked like this, and Connor had thought nothing of it. He was in very good shape, his health was incredibly well looked after, and instead of disregard Connor felt _keen_ interest. He was as sharp and tailored naked as he was in his clothing.

“I’d like to learn how to cook,” Connor said, sitting up in bed and allowing the sheets to pool in his lap. He’d never been shy about nudity, and wasn’t about to start simply because he had a new part installed.

In truth, Connor had given some thought to hobbies, and had a realisation at Hank’s – a lot of activities humans did as a hobby were things Connor was pre-programmed how to do, anyway. Anything physical, he was perfect at. Anything intellectual fell into the same category. Humans’ enjoyment for those sorts of tasks came from the betterment of their skills. Having an elimination process had helped a lot.

“I’d also like to do something with dogs. The K9 program is still active despite the fact it’s been proven completely inefficient. They’re more of an intimidation tactic these days,” Connor said, sounding a touch annoyed. “But I think I'd like to try training one, anyway. Either for the K9 unit, or for leisure.”

Connor paused, considering whether he wanted to say what was on his mind.

“I find it difficult to do things that aren’t related to work. Hank calls me a workaholic. I _enjoy_ working. I think finding a hobby within the department will help me ease into it.”

––––––

Carl hummed happily when Simon hugged him, and their arms got a little tangled in his oxygen tube as he squeezed Simon tight against him. Simon was family, now. As welcome in his house as Markus was.

“Don’t be a stranger. If you need anything at all, Simon, you call me. You _call me_, alright?”

Carl hoped he could be there, too. But he didn’t think it was likely. If he lasted until the end of ‘39 he’d be incredibly surprised. A decade ago, maybe that thought would have upset him. And he did regret the idea that he wouldn’t be there to watch either Markus, or Leo, get married. But life didn’t stop for the dead or dying, and he sure as hell didn’t expect an exception to be made for him.

Markus had witnessed the hug and found himself _burning_ with curiosity. What could Carl have said? For Simon to drop his polite facade and show a side usually only Markus saw, he suspected it had something to do with family – specifically, telling Simon he was included in it. And when Simon wrapped his arms around Markus and commented on his music, Markus smiled and tapered off so that he could reach up and turn in his seat.

“I can teach you,” Markus said, his hand hooking around the back of Simon’s ear and splaying across his neck. He didn’t think Carl would mind if he kissed Simon. But he wanted to fall into the kiss, savour it, make it slow and consuming. And so he pulled him down and kept it chase, pressing a firm circle into Simon’s skin with his thumb. Before Simon could sit, Markus rose halfway and lifted the piano chair to reveal a lid hiding music books. He rifled through them quickly, and then pulled one out, opening it and then resting it on the piano’s music stand.

“I like to take bits and pieces, mix them up, and add my own,” he said, pulling Simon next to him and speaking against his cheek. One hand wrapped around Simon’s waist as the other played the first three lines from the sheet music in front of them, and he went off on a tangent to show Simon what he meant. “You try. Just have fun with it.”

* * *

Elijah thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I _am_ a man of my word. If you had asked, I would have told you what I know. Though as far as Jericho is concerned, I’d like to think, in the moment, I would have chosen to keep the location hidden. If I told you anything, it would have been vague,” he replied. “I do know where Jericho was, approximately. I’ve never been there, but I know the general area and I do have the key to find it, though I, a human, couldn’t use it.”

He liked to think he would have protected its location, but honestly, he wasn’t sure what choice he would have made at the time. Would things have turned out differently, if he’d told him? He couldn’t be sure, but he doubted it.

“As for rA9, I don’t know who or what it is, or if it even exists. They say rA9 was the first android to awaken. They almost seem to worship it. Some have said rA9 would save them. I suppose, with that in mind, rA9 would be Markus, although I’m not entirely sure if he would be considered the first to awaken. In all honesty, I’m not sure who was the first deviant,” Elijah explained honestly. He’d spent some time pondering rA9’s identity in the past, and he’d never been able to figure it out and no deviant he’d ever encountered seem to know either.

Hearing Connor talk about the hobbies he’d like to try made Elijah smile. “I could teach you how to cook. Or, Chloe could. Chloe’s cooking is excellent.” He liked that thought, seeing Connor in the kitchen, learning how to cook with Chloe’s help. It would bring the two closer together too, he figured. Connor needed friends, people he could spend time with outside of work and outside of Elijah. The girls already welcomed him, but they didn’t know him yet. They just needed to spend time together.

“I think the K9 unit is a great idea. It _would_ help you cope with working less,” Elijah agreed. “You _do_ fit the definition of a workaholic. As do I.” With a sigh, he shifted to lean back on his hands, trying to think of another question for him. He’d had so many he wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to scare him off with them, so he started with the simpler ones first. “Have you considered reading? I think you’d enjoy it.”

––––––

Simon absolutely planned on staying in touch. He really wanted Carl to be able to come to their wedding, assuming they even had one. But Carl was right, he was old, and he knew he wasn’t in the best health. He had limited time left, and they didn’t know how much. Maybe if he proposed soon, they could have a ceremony and reception for Carl? They didn’t need to be officially married then, they just needed to have Carl be there. It was something he’d have to think about, maybe ask Josh about it later, see what he thought.

The thought of learning to play piano made his smile widen, and he hummed happily into the kiss. He would have liked to deepen it, get lost in Markus and his kisses, but Carl was there, and it didn’t quite feel right. He sat beside Markus once he was pulled onto the bench, and he scooted a little closer than he really needed to be, his leg against Markus’. Simon looked over the sheet music in front of them, only _vaguely_ understanding how to read it, thanks to Max and his trumpet lessons. If he bothered to search the internet, he could easily learn, but he would rather Markus teach him. He watched as Markus played, looking between Markus’ fingers and the notes on the page in an attempt to learn the locations of each note. He wasn’t confident, but he gave it a try anyway, attempting to play what Markus had just played, albeit a lot slower and not nearly as fluidly as Markus had. It didn’t sound like what Markus had played, but it also didn’t sound _unlike_ what he’d played. He figured he should probably learn how to play first, before he really let himself get creative.

“I don’t think I’m very good,” he said once he’d played through the first three lines, as Markus had. “I’ve never played an instrument before.”

* * *

Connor didn’t ask any more about what Elijah knew, instead sighing, and leaning his elbows forward to rest on his knees. He did have more questions, but he wanted to think about the answers he’d already been given and formulate proper questions. And so he let the topic fade, with one last passing comment;

“If rA9 is the first deviant, that would be Simon, as far as records show. He’s the earliest recorded deviant to date,” Connor reminded Elijah, much the same way he reiterated things to Hank.

Pushing the sheets off his thighs, Connor walked around to Elijah’s bag and crouched, rifling through it. One glance showed Connor it would be a tight fit for the pants, and a tighter fit for the shirt.

“My shoulders are wider than yours,” Connor said irritably, pulling out a neatly folded sweater and holding that up, instead. Technically, his pants hadn’t been messed by Elijah. They were technically fine, but they would be wrinkled in a way that _screamed_ intimacy to Connor. He wanted a pressed pair, and so he made do with Elijah’s.

Connor almost got dressed without underwear. But one run of his finger along the fly of Elijah’s pants, and the knowledge that they would be _tight_ until he found a replacement had him borrowing a pair of briefs as well.

“You really think it’s a good idea?” Connor asked happily, and moved behind Elijah, sliding his hands up the sides of his neck. His fingers scratched up Elijah’s throat, gently tracing the rough lines of his jawbone.

“I like your morning stubble. I like the texture of it,” Connor informed him happily, bending to press a kiss to his cheek.

“No, I don’t think I'll enjoy reading,” Connor commented. “It feels unproductive. I know it isn’t, but reading without a purpose… No, I don’t think that’s for me, Elijah.” Connor paused, still touching Elijah’s face. He couldn’t _stop_ touching his face. “Have you been told recently that you’re attractive? You’re _very_ attractive like this. It’s very distracting.”

––––––

There was so much _joy_ in watching Simon learn. Markus had never seen him pick up a truly new skill, and his tentative press of the keys had Markus smiling.

“It hadn’t occurred to me that you can’t read sheet music,” Markus said with a soft, breathless laugh. He then began to explain the different notes to Simon, how they were grouped together, and how they were read from a page.

“Even before I deviated, I always used to feel _so much_. The piano was a way for me to let it out. I didn’t know what to do with it back then, so I just played until it stopped.”

“I remember,” Carl said, wheeling close, but still giving a bit of distance. “I can see Simon with a violin, personally. A subtle, tragic instrument. A little bit like you, eh, Simon?”

“Carl…” But Markus had to admit, the thought of Simon learning the violin was very, _very_ beautiful.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur, and it was cathartic for Markus. He smiled more than he had since that awful night on the 5th, and the happiness stayed with him right up until Carl bid them goodbye at his door.

Markus led Simon by his hand towards the bus stop. It was a rich area, people didn’t _use_ public transportation when the weather got like this. They ordered taxis. And so the street was deserted, their stop was deserted, and they had fifteen minutes until the bus was due.

Markus threaded his hands into Simon’s hair, gentle and reverent as he brought him closer. Every time Markus kissed Simon, it always felt like the first time. It was always a shock, always too good to be true. Markus’ kisses were worship. He held Simon as though he might never get to hold him again.

They had fifteen minutes, and so he let himself get lost in the kiss. He let the world slip away for a moment, until there was _just_ Simon. A gentle, aching happiness oozed from Markus, and he didn’t bother to hide it. Not from Simon.

* * *

“Simon is the earliest _recorded_ deviant to date,” Elijah repeated. “I gave Markus to Carl over ten years ago. I’m not sure exactly when he might have started showing emotion, but I can promise you it was long before he found Jericho.”

Elijah watched as Connor climbed out of bed and searched through his bag, huffing a chuckle at Connor’s irritated comment. “We should find some clothes for you, so you don’t have to keep raiding my wardrobe,” he pointed out. Maybe after breakfast and after a shower. Elijah definitely needed a shower before going anywhere, and he needed to put on a clean change of clothes. He knew he had at least two full outfits left in his bag after Connor took one.

His eyes wandered over Connor as he got dressed, admiring the expanse of pale skin dotted by small freckles and moles. A nice cosmetic addition, he noted. Connor’s body was standard for most male androids, with just a few cosmetic differences on his skin, and yet his was the only one Elijah cared for. He was different, somehow, though he couldn’t quite place how or why.

“I do,” Elijah said with a smile, his eyes slipping closed as Connor’s hands found his neck. The nails on his throat resulted in a mild shudder and a soft exhale, but Elijah didn’t make any moves to initiate anything. They needed to be productive today. Furniture was being delivered and Connor needed clothes. They would have all night and all of Wednesday to do whatever they wanted, however long they wanted.

“If you haven’t tried it, I wouldn’t swear it off completely. If you take your time and read at a human’s pace, with the right book, I think you’d like it,” he said, though he let it drop there, moving onto the next subject. “You’re the only one to comment on how I look. Do you like it? The stubble?” He figured if Connor did really like it, he could keep it around, for him.

––––––

“I know a little,” Simon said, pointing out the few notes in the sheet music that he did recognize. “Max played trumpet in his school band, and he tried to show me how.” He didn’t quite know where each note belonged on the piano though, but he did know a few notes. Not enough to play at the same speed as Markus, but enough to at least render the piece recognizable.

Simon had decided, after seeing Markus at the piano and starting to learn himself, that he wanted to get a piano for the apartment he and Markus. He knew Markus was often stressed and maybe if he had a piano to help him unwind, he’d feel better. Simon just had to see how much money he’d had stashed away for safekeeping. If he had enough by Christmas, he wanted to get one for him as a gift.

The suggestion of a violin was interesting. If he was honest, Simon had never considered playing any instrument, ever. But thanks to Markus and Carl, his interest was piqued and he was wondering if he would enjoy playing a violin, if he’d be any good at it. Maybe he would try it sometime. In the meantime, he was content with the piano, and more than content with Markus’ proximity.

Simon enjoyed his time spent in Carl’s company, and when it was time to leave, he thanked him and said goodbye. He planned on keeping in touch, to tell him when he asked and if Markus said yes, and to keep him updated on plans, and to check in on him. He cared. Carl was special and by the time they left, he could easily see why Markus loved the man so much.

The air outside made Simon thankful he’d had a jacket, and he hugged it closer to himself as he walked hand in hand with Markus to the bus stop. Though the second Markus’ hand was in his hair, the cold was easily forgotten. His eyes slipped closed and he wrapped his arms around Markus’ shoulders, happily returning his kiss. He could kiss Markus all day and still want more. It was so easy to get lost in the kiss, so easy to block out the outside world and focus solely on Markus. Simon’s hand moved to cup the side of Markus’ neck, humming into the kiss as the synthetic skin on his hand retracted, silently requesting a connection. He wanted to feel impossibly close to him again, and while his walls regarding Max had mostly been torn down, new ones were put in place, protecting his conversation with Carl. He planned on keeping the envelope a secret for as long as he could.

Simon was equally as happy, if not more so, and he didn’t bother hiding it, be it through connection or in person. He wanted Markus to know just how truly happy he was, so happy it _hurt_, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it.

_I love you. More than anything._

* * *

“Isn’t it interesting?” Connor asked when Elijah had finished explaining Markus’ deviancy. They were more things he hadn’t known, and they were tucked away for later. He'd known he was given to Carl Manfred. He just hadn’t known it was so _long_ ago. “Why didn’t you ever make an effort to be closer to Markus, and develop trust, if you knew he was likely to be deviant? Weren’t you curious?”

Markus still didn’t trust Elijah completely. But it was better than it was before.

“I do like it,” Connor said, running his forefinger along the hairs as you would a cat. “But the main appeal is that I'm one of only four who gets to see it,” he said, meaning the girls. “And I'm the _only_ one who gets to touch it like this. I like that there’s a you only I get to witness, more or less. Which makes absolutely no sense, even to me.”

Connor leant to kiss Elijah’s lips softly, and allowed it to linger a little. But only a little. “I like you clean-shaven, too.”

Shifting, Connor sat beside Elijah on the bed, carefully keeping his distance.

“Recommend me a book, Elijah, and I'll give it a try.”

––––––

> **Connect with Simon?**
> 
> _ **[Yes.]** _
> 
> ** No.**

Markus _gasped_ when they interfaced, his breath creating a thick cloud of fog between his and Simon’s lips. They stumbled together, until Markus had Simon huddled against the bus stop windbreak. It wasn’t a pin, but it was intimate. Anyone passing by would have known they were kissing, but Markus’ mind wasn’t focused on passersby.

He was a little more used to how Simon felt when they connected, but not by much. He experienced everything, and Markus had learned, slowly, through trial and error, that letting it engulf him was the easiest way to accept Simon’s connections.

_I don’t want to get on the bus._

And those connections were _incredible_. He felt the cold, and it made Markus shiver in Simon’s arms. He could feel his hands on Simon’s face, and smiled as he ran his thumb over his lips. But it was Simon’s pure unfiltered _happiness_ that tilted Markus’ head back in an arch, his lips parting in a gasping smile at the quantity of Simon’s love.

He began to lose himself in Simon, too. He couldn’t feel where he stopped and Simon began. His own love, his own happiness ran through their connection, and Markus felt it reflected back at him through Simon.

_But then, I can hardly wait to get you home. _

When his head tipped forwards again, he’s almost clumsy in the way he kissed Simon again. Fifteen minutes wasn’t going to be enough. No amount of time ever felt like enough.

Today had been perfect. Today had been very needed. And Markus felt that no matter what tomorrow threw at him, that afternoon with Carl and Simon becoming fast friends had given him the fortifications for anything.

_I love you, too. _

* * *

Elijah could only shrug in response. “I don’t know why I didn’t. Although, until reports of deviancy were being made, I didn’t _know_ it was possible. I created the seed in hope that it would work, but I wasn’t positive it would,” he replied, thinking back. He’d seen the reports CyberLife had received, and he’d been asked to do interviews many times around the time the first few deviants were recorded. He remembered it well.

He chuckled with a smile at Connor’s admission, returning his kiss, chaste as it was. “There are quite a few sides of me that only you get to see,” he said, reaching over to put his hand on Connor’s thigh. He didn’t do anything with it, just letting his hand rest there, touching but not exploring even if he wanted to. He figured he’d shave after his shower, to allow his stubble to be something only Connor and the girls got to see.

“I have plenty to recommend. I have a few physical copies at home, if you’d rather have one of those. I’m sure Lieutenant Anderson has some too. He doesn’t strike me as a digital reader.” Elijah preferred digital copies himself, though he did have a few physical copies around the house. He’d have to gather them up for Connor when he had the chance.

“What was CyberLife like?” Elijah asked, the question tentative. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask, exactly, but he was curious. “I’m sure it changed quite a bit since I had been there, prior to taking back the company. How did they treat you?”

––––––

Simon sighed in relief when Markus’ emotions flooded in as the connection was made. He never got tired of it, feeling so incredibly close to him, as close as he could possibly ever get. He loved being able to get so lost in Markus that he couldn’t find where he ended and where Markus began, their emotions drowning everything else out.

He didn’t want to get on the bus either. He would much rather stay tangled up in Markus, but he _was_ cold. Markus distracted him from it, but his hands and nose were cold. Getting inside somewhere warm would definitely be nice.

Sharing his emotions and his physical feelings was nice, and he _loved_ feeling everything Markus felt too. It made his love feel validated. It was nice to know how Markus truly felt, to feel it, to know without a doubt. He knew Markus loved him, of course, he told him plenty of times, but to feel it was something else.

_I want to go home. I want to be closer to you._

Simon was more than happy to pry himself away, just temporarily, so they could get home and he could truly be lost in everything that was Markus, in the privacy of their apartment. He was tempted to just call a taxi, so they could get home sooner, but he wasn’t sure if the cab would get there before the bus or not. He figured he could tolerate the cold a little longer though. Markus could keep him warm.

* * *

Connor lit up when Elijah told him there were many things only Connor got to see. How he behaved before, during, and after sex was obviously one instance, but Connor knew he meant other instances, too. His laughter came to mind. But so did his tenderness, the way Elijah tended to melt around him.

“Yes! Hank enjoys gritty detective novels and Stephen King. He takes a lot of pride in owning physical copies.” And although Connor wasn’t convinced he would become a book lover, he certainly didn’t mind indulging both Elijah and Hank at least once.

At Elijah’s tentative question, Connor’s smile flickered, and with a barely discernible yellow flash from his LED it slid seamlessly from genuine happiness, to a fake quirk of his lips.

“I was a machine, designed to achieve a task. CyberLife did everything in their power to ensure I completed my mission. They were diligent,” he answered, vague and angry.

Connor’s eyes had hardened, and he pushed his smile wider in an attempt to keep the mood from dampening. But there was no sincerity behind it, and reminded Connor of the kinds of smiles he used to give Hank at the beginning.

“Before deviancy became an issue, they were a successful global powerhouse. It was an extremely efficiently run company, all things considered. Their profits were steady, and their share price high.”

* * *

Elijah liked to think that there were parts of Connor that only he got to see too. The Connor he’d first met and the Connor that had come in for repairs were so different from the Connor he knew now. He watched him change and grow as a person since Markus and Simon brought him in for repairs that day. He was proud of him, for coming out of his shell a little, being honest and talking to him about things he hadn’t quite expected Connor to be willing to talk about.

“Stephen King is good,” Elijah agreed. It wasn’t surprising that Hank liked crime novels. He figured Connor might like those too. “I have a few physical copies, though digital is much easier, in my opinion. You can carry around thousands of books in a phone or a tablet, whereas carrying any more than three physical books can get exhausting. Physical copies also take up space. Digital copies only take up hard drive space.” He did see the appeal behind physical copies though. They had a certain smell to them, and he did like the weight of them in his hands, the feeling of turning the pages.

“I think you might like _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ by Philip K. Dick,” he suggested. “I have a physical copy, if you’d like to borrow it.” It was a little funny, actually. There were quite a few similarities between the story and their reality.

The second Connor’s once genuine smile had faded into something less than, Elijah knew. He’d seen enough of Connor’s genuine smiles to know when he put on a fake one, and the smile on Connor’s face now was absolutely fake.

“I know _about_ CyberLife, Connor. It’s my company. I’m well aware of its success and worth. That wasn’t what I was asking,” Elijah said, reaching over to take Connor’s hand. “I want to know how they treated you, what they did to you. I want to know what they did to androids as a whole, since I left. I have ten years to catch up on, I need to know what they did to my creation so I can fix what they ruined.”

* * *

“Elijah, I don’t…” Connor cut himself off, his LED spinning yellow as his jaw turned away from Elijah. They’d been having a lovely morning. He didn’t want to talk about what CyberLife had done to him, because the thought left him riddled with an anger he wasn’t sure how to manage. There was nobody left to hold accountable, no chance for confrontation or catharsis. What they’d done to him had been neatly locked away so he could get on with things. Every inch closer to the spotlight Elijah dragged it made Connor want to stand and leave the room.

Connor looked down at their hands, and as his fingers curled around Elijah’s, his LED shifted into red. His stress levels increased, climbing sharply, but Connor’s expression held carefully, purposefully neutral.

“Part of my assignment was to meet with Amanda in her garden and discuss specifics of the case. We were _friends_. We were close,” Connor said, his stress pinging higher. “I asked her about you, once. She said you helped with the early concepts of the garden. I always thought it was very beautiful.”

Connor paused with his mouth slightly open, his LED circling crimson.

“As the case progressed, Amanda became… irritable. She was disappointed in me for failing. It was suggested that my model was defective. I was given one last chance. But when I found Markus at Jericho, when I pointed my gun at his head, I _couldn’t pull the trigger_.”

And thank god he couldn’t. He’d done so much damage, and his programming had ended so many innocent lives.

Connor’s stress spiked again; and with a twitch of his fingers, he let go of Elijah. His hands twisted out from under him, his shoulder dropped away. He very suddenly didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want to continue. He didn’t want to do this.

“Elijah…”

* * *

Elijah didn’t plan on pushing for an answer. It was so very clear that the question made Connor uncomfortable, and while Elijah wanted to know everything there was to know about Connor, he wasn’t going to force him to tell him anything he didn’t want to. Sure, the thought of Connor withholding information hurt a little when Elijah himself had been so honest about everything, but he could understand how difficult certain topics could be.

But then Connor continued, his LED blaring an angry red and Elijah knew he was upset, despite the neutral facade. At the mention of Amanda, surprise was the first emotion that hit. He was glad to hear that his program and Connor had been friends, but as Connor continued on, his surprise began to shift into concern. And when Connor practically ripped himself away from Elijah, seeing how _broken_ Connor was, that concern very quickly shifted into _fury_.

Elijah had created Amanda in the likeness of his beloved mentor to _honor_ her. He built the garden, such a beautiful place for her to reside, although he hadn’t quite had a plan on how to utilize the AI. She’d simply lived in his computer for years, and as far as he’d been aware, she’d stayed there. He had no idea CyberLife had implanted her program into Connor. To know that they had used something of his, something he’d put his heart and soul into and _cherished_ for something so cruel… He didn’t know what exactly had happened, but he knew it was _bad._ He’d never seen Connor react the way he did, shut down the way he did, and he felt vengeful. He wanted someone to pay for whatever trauma they’d inflicted, even if he didn’t know _what_ it was.

“Connor, I’m so sorry,” Elijah said softly, pushing side his anger to attempt to comfort him. He wanted to hug him, reassure him that it was okay, whatever had happened was over and he was safe, and the people that had done whatever it was to him were gone, unable to ever touch him or another android again. But he didn’t. He kept his hands in his lap, no matter how badly he wanted to touch him. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

* * *

The _relief_ Connor felt when Elijah let the topic go was almost audible. His stress plummeted, and as it did Connor’s edges frayed completely. He wished Elijah hadn’t asked him about CyberLife. He wished he hadn’t mentioned Amanda at all. And in that moment, Connor wished he couldn’t feel as much as he did. He wished he couldn’t feel at all.

He felt guilty for what he’d done under orders. He felt angry at CyberLife for what they programmed him to do. He felt _hatred_ for the sleeper program he’d barely escaped. And he felt lost. He didn’t know what to do with everything he felt, he didn’t know how to untangle it. Emotions still weren’t his forte, and this? He didn't want to deal with this if he didn’t have to.

Connor’s stress continued to plummet the longer Elijah kept his hands to himself. He stayed very still, and very quiet, until his LED cycled yellow. And quite sharply, his preference switched, and he wanted to feel Elijah’s hands on his skin, in his hair, on his face. His chest _hurt_. He felt pathetic.

Connor’s movements were stiff as his fingers grazed Elijah’s arm.

(_Please.)_

He didn’t know that what he wanted was to be held.

(_Please.)_

He just knew he wanted to stop feeling _so much. _

“I’d like to listen to you speak for a little while, if that’s okay?” Connor asked quietly. “Will you tell me a synopsis of your favourite book?”

* * *

Elijah’s heart ached for Connor. Seeing him so upset, as much as Connor may have been trying to hide it, only made Elijah’s anger towards the former CEO and those he’d already fired grow. Elijah wanted to know what had happened to affect Connor so severely, but he knew asking wasn’t an option. Not with how Connor had already reacted. He’d leave it be. He wouldn’t pry. Connor could tell him when he was ready.

He kept his eyes on him, watching him to make sure he was okay, or at least as okay as he could be, all things considered. He was relieved to see the red cycle into yellow, a much safer color and Elijah felt like he could breathe again. He’d never seen Connor so worked up or stressed before. The only time that came close was when he’d initially gave him the code, but that was different. It was something they were able to work past. It wasn’t traumatic.

Elijah didn’t move as Connor finally reached out to touch him, almost afraid that if he’d move, he’d scare Connor away. But when Connor finally spoke again, Elijah held his arm out for him. “Come here,” he said softly, hoping Connor would accept so he could hold him, try to comfort him. He didn’t know if that was what Connor wanted or needed, but it was what Elijah needed. He needed to hold him and reassure him, tell him that everything was okay now, he was safe, and CyberLife would _never_ touch him again.

“I don’t have a favorite, exactly. I have a few that I like more than others, but I don’t think I have a favorite,” he said, though he planned on reciting the synopsis of each one regardless, if that was what Connor needed to feel better.

* * *

When Elijah told Connor to come to him, his expression _cracked_. Elijah only had moments to see it, as Connor’s arm wound around Elijah’s waist, the other going up the back of his shirt. His LED shifted back to red, this time due to the _ache_ of emotion he felt. It was far too much, and Connor’s teeth grit until he was grimacing as he rested his face in Elijah’s neck.

He didn’t like this. And while he sucked comfort from Elijah like some sort of leech, he hated that he had to. The event was _finished_. CyberLife’s entire structure was gutted, the company was barely more than a name now. These emotions didn’t do anything. Connor didn’t want to feel them at all, and yet he felt them so much he felt burnt by them.

And so without quite realising that was what he was doing, Connor swiftly began to bottle them back up. This was supposed to be a nice few days together and he felt as though he were spoiling it with things that should have stayed neatly tucked out of sight.

“Give me the synopsis of your favourite scientific journal, then, you impossible man,” Connor said, not unkindly, trying _desperately_ to sweep away the mood he’d created. “Read me the washing instructions on your shirt. Recite the periodic table. I _just want to hear your voice_.”

* * *

Elijah saw it, of course. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of him. And when Connor wound his arms around him and pressed close, Elijah pulled him closer, practically into his lap. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his hand gently rubbing Connor’s back to soothe him. He refused to let him go, not any time soon. His heart broke for him, and even though the people who had hurt him were gone, he still wanted them to pay. The punishment he’d given them hadn’t been enough, now that he knew what he knew.

Despite how they were both feeling, Connor still seemed to hold onto his sass, and Elijah couldn’t help the snort of laughter that left him. He pressed another kiss to the top of Connor’s head, smiling into his hair. “Okay, okay,” he relented, his other hand coming up to card through Connor’s hair. As requested, he recited the synopsis of one of his favorite books, one hand in Connor’s hair and the other still rubbing gentle circles into his back.

Elijah managed to get through the synopses of two more books before there was a knock on the door. It must have been room service with the breakfast he’d ordered. He sighed, the hand in Connor’s hair moving to tip his chin up. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back to look over his face and the LED on his temple. “Are you okay for me to get up?” he asked, more than willing to forego breakfast if Connor needed him. “I’ll come right back.”

* * *

Connor grew heavy in Elijah’s arms, sinking into him bit by bit. The fingers in his hair were perfect, as were the soothing circles against his back. And when Elijah did what Connor wanted, and just _spoke_, Connor closed his eyes and listened.

Elijah had an odd accent. There was a quirk in the way he said certain vowels, which reminded him of the way Detective Reed enunciated things sometimes. Whatever accent it was, he couldn’t place it, which wasn’t entirely concerning. Humans were complex creatures.

By the third synopsis, Connor could have been asleep. His LED was back to blue, his emotions didn’t feel like needles, and his expression had smoothed. In truth, he’d only found the books vaguely interesting. But he hadn’t been _listening_ for interest's sake, he’d been listening to the way Elijah’s voice carried in a soothing baritone, flecked in inflections.

When the door knocked, Connor pulled in a deep breath he didn’t need through his nose. His hand slid up Elijah’s face, and Connor angled his own to kiss his lips.

“Let me get it for you,” Connor said, his LED cycling blue as he pushed to his feet. It was a simple tray, and Connor had no trouble carrying it with one hand as the other closed the door. He set it beside Elijah on the bed, and then bent, drawing him into the first proper kiss they’d shared all morning. But this one wasn’t hungry and needing and overflowing with desire. It was a thank–you, and a sorry, and a declaration of love. It was achingly tender, and ended with their noses touching and their foreheads pressed together.

“Enjoy your breakfast.”

* * *

As Connor seemed to relax, all of Elijah’s own stress and anger dissipated. The weight of Connor against him helped to soothe his own nerves. He was relieved that Connor seemed to be back to normal, at least on the outside. His LED was no longer an angry red or a concerning yellow, just the regular, steady blue he liked to see.

Elijah knew Connor wasn’t truly listening. He knew he didn’t particularly care about the subject matter. He understood wanting to be held and listen to someone talk about anything. He’d requested the same of Chloe on more than one occasion. He was happy to comfort Connor, and he was even happier that it seemed to work.

When Connor offered to retrieve breakfast, Elijah had thought to protest, but Connor was already on his feet. He let him go, waiting patiently for Connor to return with the tray. When Connor leaned in for a kiss, Elijah met him halfway, his hand coming up to spread against the side of Connor’s neck, holding him there. As much as he loved their hungry, devouring kisses, he really loved this one. He felt like he could _feel_ Connor’s emotions through it, and he hoped Connor could his. He wanted Connor to know how sorry he was, how he wasn’t upset with him _at all_, how much he loved him. He hoped it was conveyed through the kiss. He didn’t want to break away from it, more than happy to stay the way they were, foreheads pressed together.

“Come sit with me again,” he said, the hand on Connor’s neck sliding down to find his hand, guiding him back onto the bed where he’d been. He wanted Connor close again, to hold him while he ate his breakfast. “I was thinking today, we could go clothes shopping, after our furniture is delivered. As much as I like you wearing my clothes, they don’t quite fit you. They were tailored to me. We could find some clothes that match your tastes and have them tailored to fit you.” He didn’t mind spending money on him at all, either. He’d spent more money in the last couple days than he had in years, but he didn’t particularly care.

* * *

Connor felt everything in Elijah’s kiss, and it made him want to kiss Elijah a second time, and a third. He thought of the way he’d shared experiences, emotions, with Simon. And while not all of them had been positive, some of them _had_. Connor wished he could just show Elijah how much he meant to him. He wished he could feel Elijah in turn, and it’s a thought that made Connor’s hand travel up Elijah’s arm and loosely grip it. Connor knew he was perceived as wooden, sometimes. He wished Elijah could see how much he cared.

When asked to sit with Elijah, Connor happily moved back onto the bed. He wound up with his chin on Elijah’s shoulder again, his chest pressed up against Elijah’s side, and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

“You’re right. Your pants, in particular, are digging into me a little. But I'm enjoying the softness and warmth of your sweater. I think I'd like one of my own,” he said as he watched Elijah’s hands. It was a strange relief to see him finally eat something. “I noticed that since wearing the clothes Chloe gave me on the night of my train accident, my colleagues at the precinct have been warmer. People accept me a _lot_ easier when I'm not wearing a CyberLife uniform,” Connor said noncommittally. He wasn’t upset by the fact, it was just an observation. “Will you help me choose clothing that will help keep people comfortable? I want to be well–dressed. But I also only want to intimidate the people I _choose_ to intimidate.”

* * *

When Connor joined him on the bed again, Elijah wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head again, smiling. He pulled the tray of food closer, using his free hand to start eating. His stomach was definitely happy, now that he was finally eating something. He chuckled at Connor’s comment about the pants. He hadn’t complained before, but then again, he also hadn’t had anything to take up space in the pants until now. Clothes were definitely a priority then. He could call one of the girls over to the new apartment to watch over the movers so he and Connor could get some clothes.

“We can get a sweater or two for you,” Elijah replied, taking another bite of his food. Once he’d finished chewing and swallowed, he spoke up again. “It was the jacket, I think. You looked a little stiff, more like a machine. Without it, you look more human, easier to approach.” Personally, he had no opinion regarding the android uniforms. He’d designed them, but only because the law called for it. The design wasn’t awful, the uniforms served their purpose and he liked the colors he’d used, but he definitely preferred Connor in regular clothes. He looked so much more relaxed.

“I can help you put together a few outfits. A suit, maybe? A few shirts and pants, another jacket, lighter weight for when it gets warmer, some shoes…” Elijah listed off. He already had a store in mind. It had everything they’d need, as well as an in-store tailor. The clothes likely didn’t _need_ to be tailored, but they would look nicer on Connor if they were. “Once I finish breakfast, I need to call Chloe, to see if she or Cleo or Claire could come sit at the apartment while the furniture gets moved in. I _definitely_ need to shower before we go anywhere, too, but once I’m ready, we could go to the store, if you want?”

* * *

Connor enjoyed chatting about their day. He _thrived_ on structure, which working with Hank so sorely lacked. Having an itemised list of tasks they had to get through in the day was a very nice change.

“I think that whoever comes to help will enjoy it a lot. They’re all a little bit nosy,” Connor said, finally smiling again.

He waited until Elijah was finished with his meal this time, before he tasted what remained on his plate. And just like last time, the most overwhelming taste was _Elijah_. A very sharp flick of Connor’s LED followed, and he kept quiet through the realisation that Elijah hadn’t spat him out last night. He’d swallowed everything. He didn’t understand why that made his skin _itch_ with restlessness.

He watched Elijah begin to get ready for the shower, and his gaze followed him across the room. He was quiet, his posture perfectly innocent. And when he heard the shower turn on, Connor’s eyes shuttered as he estimated the longevity of a hotel shower hot water supply in winter, and quickly decided it was _enough_.

Connor undressed as efficiently as he always did, and when he pressed open the bathroom door, he was immediately met with a face full of steam. He was like a ghost as he opened Elijah’s shower door, and gently pushed him against the tiled walls. His kiss was not as gracious.

Connor _ravaged_ Elijah. He didn’t say a word as he did it, letting it start deep and needy and quickly melting into desperate and dirty. Connor’s hands, made of hard opposable plastic and not human skin, were as slick as silk as he ran them down Elijah’s body. He loved the difference in texture. He liked the slickness the water provided. He _loved_ the warmth, the feel of the water, the steam in the air, and how the cold had been chased entirely away.

“I have some new skills I'd like to test out, thanks to a very instructive teacher,” Connor smiled against Elijah’s ear, slipping his hands down Elijah’s chest and grinding his thumbs against Elijah’s nipples. His lips trailed to Elijah’s neck, licking the water from his skin between kisses. And with his hands trailing _everywhere_, Connor sunk into a crouch between Elijah’s legs, and allowed his knees to rest either side of his ankles.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you all morning, _but you’d never had eaten if I did_. Swallowing is not a meal, Elijah Kamski.”

* * *

Elijah snorted a laugh. “They’re plenty nosy,” he said, shaking his head. He knew they meant well. They wanted him to be happy, and they rarely saw him with anyone. Anyone he’d been with in the past hadn’t made him quite this happy, though.

Once Elijah was finished with his breakfast, he let Connor taste everything that was left, redirecting his attention to his phone as he fished it out of his pocket. He sent a text to the girls, giving them the apartment address and asking one of them to be there as soon as possible to let the movers in. It only took _seconds_ to get three very enthusiastic responses, and he didn’t even bother choosing which one of them would go. They could either figure it out themselves, or all three of them could go. He figured that was likely what would happen.

Elijah was oblivious to what Connor was thinking, tossing his phone onto the bed before getting to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and undressed, letting the dirty clothes fall into a heap on the floor to be dealt with later. After letting his hair down and once the water was hot enough, he stepped inside, not expecting Connor to join him. He’d planned on just washing himself and getting out, so Connor wouldn’t be left waiting.

He hadn’t heard the bathroom door open, only realizing Connor was there when the shower door opened. He didn’t have time to say anything before he was pushed against the wall and kissed. He _liked_ this kiss too, so willing to get lost in it. He melted into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to hold the back of Connor’s neck, the other one slipping around his waist to hold him close. As the kiss grew more desperate, so did he, and he moaned into it.

He loved the feeling of Connor’s hands on him, so slick combined with the steady stream of water raining down on them. By the time Connor broke the kiss, Elijah was already breathless. Connor’s words elicited a breathy chuckle that cut into a soft groan as Connor’s thumbs found his nipples. He arched into his touch, his head resting back against the tile. He watched Connor sink to his knees through half-lidded eyes, his hand slipping from his neck into his hair while the other hand moved to grip at the wall, even though he knew it was no use.

Connor’s statement earned another breathy laugh. “I would have eaten eventually,” he breathed, though really, he and Connor both knew he would have put it off if Connor kept distracting him.

* * *

Connor ran his hands down the pretty arch of Elijah’s back, and rolled his eyes at the response Elijah gave him. They both knew perfectly well that if he’d started _anything_ with Elijah this morning, they’d be at least two orgasms into the day without so much as a glance at room service. Connor solidified his resolve – if he wanted Elijah to eat, it had to be before they did _anything_.

He didn’t answer Elijah except to throw him a pointed glance, his fingertips idly exploring. Connor kissed a trail up the inside of Elijah’s thighs. He stopped whenever he felt a muscle twitch, or heard a gasp of breath and poured his attention into it.

Watching Elijah get harder just a few inches away from his face was an entirely different thrill altogether.

Connor tapped Elijah’s thigh to spread them wider and licked a long stripe up the inner muscle until his nose was pressed into the crease. One hand hooked around Elijah’s waist to steady him as Connor’s other hand cradled Elijah against his face. Connor’s mouth opened, and his eyes flicked up to watch Elijah’s face as he flattened his tongue against the vein and dragged it right to the tip. Connor didn’t wait the way Elijah did. He shifted up, mimicking Elijah as he swirled his tongue, and then pressed down––

> **Analysing… **

Connor huffed out a laugh around Elijah.

> **CANCELLED.**

He tried again, angling his head a little differently.

> **Analy––**
> 
> **CANCELLED.**

And when it happened a third time, Connor pulled away laughing. It didn’t make any sense, he’d used his mouth on Elijah before. But he didn’t move the same way when he analysed evidence; he put his fingers to his lips and pressed against his tongue. _That_ was the same.

“You keep triggering my evidence analysis,” Connor explained, his eyes flicked down and his hand gently stroking up and down as he worked it out.

Fourth time lucky, Connor impatiently muted the trigger, and took Elijah into his mouth until he hit the back of Connor’s throat. But Connor had no gag reflex, forgot he even _should_ have one in the moment, and withdrew almost all the way. Connor _groaned_ at the weight of Elijah against his tongue. His eyes closed as he began to experiment. A lot of it was mimicry, a lot was exactly what Elijah had done to him.

Until Connor realised Elijah could fit in his throat. It wasn’t designed as a human throat was; it was a way for Connor to directly transfuse blue blood from a bottle or a bag. His system could disintegrate trace particles, things Connor didn’t clear out of his mouth before they entered his system. But he could _not_ tolerate a mouthful of anything.

Connor trusted Elijah would remember that as he pushed until Elijah was hilted in his mouth, his eyes raised to watch as he drew back a little, and then forwards with a moan.

He _liked_ how this felt. He liked Elijah in his mouth like this. He _liked_ the way he reacted, what his hands were doing, the sounds and gasps he made.

But most of all, Connor realised everyone who had ever made a comment which suggested being on their knees was degrading was an _idiot_. He couldn’t imagine many other scenarios where he had as much power over Elijah as he did just then...

* * *

Connor’s touch along with his kisses, so close yet not quite close enough, was driving him insane and Connor’s mouth hadn’t even really touched him yet, aside from the trail of kisses he left on his thighs. Elijah couldn’t understand how Connor could have such an effect on him without even trying. He’d hardly done anything, and he was already gasping and twitching just from his touch.

Upon Connor’s request, Elijah shifted slightly, spreading his legs a little wider. He was careful to keep his balance, despite being a little unsteady. His grip on Connor along with his weight mostly supported by the wall helped keep him upright. A full body shudder rolled through him as Connor licked along his thigh, _so close_. When Connor finally touched him, his breath hitched in his throat.

As Connor’s tongue ran along his length, Elijah’s eyes closed and his head fell back against the tile, a deep moan escaping his parted lips. The fingers in Connor’s hair balled into a fist, but he didn’t guide him, as much as he felt compelled to. Connor was an _excellent_ student. He learned so quickly, and Elijah really shouldn’t have been surprised.

The laugh made him a little curious, but the sensation felt too _nice_ for him to dwell on what might have caused it. But then Connor was pulling back completely, and the whine that left Elijah was desperate and confused. He didn’t have to ask what was going on, Connor answered his questions before he had the chance. The hand that replaced Connor’s mouth was a nice substitute, but a sad replacement. He huffed out a laugh himself, the hand in Connor’s hair relaxing enough to run his fingers through it. But when Connor’s mouth was on him again, he moaned as Connor took him in, all the way to the back of his throat.

He hadn’t expected Connor to take in _all of him_, and when he did, the moan he let out loud and deep. Elijah’s hands balled into fists again, his legs weak. “_Fuck_, Connor,” he breathed, holding onto him tighter, afraid his legs might give out on him. He honestly didn’t think he was going to last much longer, especially if Connor kept doing _that_. “Do that again,” he gasped out. “Don’t stop. _Please,_ don’t stop.”

* * *

Connor watched Elijah’s face as best he could, his hands sliding up Elijah’s thighs as he moved. Every sound, every last shiver of Elijah beneath him made Connor want to break away and kiss him. But he would never _dare_, and he hummed approval when Elijah fisted at his hair.

When Elijah begged, and said his name through ragged breaths, a _surge_ of affection shoot through Connor. Every round with Elijah was better than the last, every one of them producing sounds and reactions he hadn't heard before. He shuffled closer, while at the same time pulling off almost all the way. Connor’s mouth was impossibly wet, and _slick_ from the mess Elijah was making in it. He learned that relaxing his jaw made it easier, that using his tongue made it better. And just as he found the technique he'd been trying for, he could feel Elijah getting close. He could _hear_ him.

His hand slid up the back of Elijah’s thigh and tapped, trying to encourage the roll of his hips. Connor remembered how badly he’d wanted to buck up, and he tapped twice more to try to communicate it. When that didn’t work, Connor draw his hand all the way back, and smacked Elijah _sharp_ just below the curve of his ass. It stung his fingertips, and Connor relaxed his jaw even more as he took him all the way in.

* * *

With each and every movement Connor made, Elijah grew closer and closer to the edge. His breathing was heavy and unsteady, his knuckles had gone white from gripping Connor’s hair so hard, and his legs trembled. Connor’s mouth was _amazing_ and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t found some way to teach him sooner.

Elijah didn’t understand what Connor was trying to tell him. The last time he’d tapped his thigh, he’d been asking for him to spread his legs further, and he’d understood that. He shifted his feet apart a little further, spreading his legs just a bit more, thinking that maybe that had been what he was asking for, but clearly it wasn’t, because he tapped again. Elijah just couldn’t piece together what Connor wanted, his mind a muddled mess. All he could think about was Connor’s mouth, his hands, and how weak his legs felt.

The slap _stung_ and took Elijah by surprise, earning Connor a surprised cry that quickly morphed into a moan as his hips had moved forward from the force. _Then_ he realized what Connor was asking. He rolled his hips forward again, keeping his back firmly planted against the shower wall to help keep himself upright. He doubted Connor would let him fall, but in the moment, his mind told him to be careful. He forced himself to let go of Connor’s hair, not quite trusting himself to let go in time otherwise. All it took was a couple more unsteady hip rolls before he was about to tumble over the edge. “C–Connor,” he moaned out, not quite able to get anything else out as a warning before his orgasm hit _hard_, his entire body trembling with it.

* * *

Connor _groaned_ at the rough grip in his hair. It hurt, quite a lot if he were honest, but he found he didn't mind it. That he _enjoyed_ it. Elijah would never hurt him intentionally, he’d never dream of it, and to know he was slipping his control _so much _as to cause Connor pain made Connor want to push him further, not make him stop.

The sound he earned from slapping Elijah made him shudder, and file that away for later. It gave him exactly the result he’d been after, too, and Connor braced one arm against the wall so he couldn’t be knocked backward. He loved the slide of Elijah against his tongue, the tightness of him in his throat. He loved that all he could taste was him, and when Elijah let go of his hair, Connor whined despite knowing why he’d done it.

Connor’s cheeks hollowed as Elijah stammered his name, sucking as he pulled back halfway. He made a surprised sound when Elijah’s orgasm hit, and one arm flew upwards to brace Elijah against the wall. He pulled off as he did, his nose scrunching up as the end of Elijah’s release hit Connor’s chin and jaw. A second later, Connor’s expression pulled into an _incredibly _pleased smile.

Silently, Connor helped Elijah slide safely to the shower floor. The small space meant they were practically tangled together, and Connor’s hand carded through Elijah’s sopping hair once he was down.

He then leaned to one side, and the reason for Connor’s silence came to light as he opened his mouth, and messily _spat_ Elijah’s release into the drain. His mouth was _filthy_, and he had to do it twice, leaning back into the stream of water on the third to wash it off his face.

And when Connor looked back to Elijah, his expression cracked with an _incredibly_ smug grin.

“I like that much better than using my hand,” Connor announced, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip. He shifted closer and spoke against Elijah’s mouth. “You lose control in an _incredibly_ satisfying way like this.”

* * *

Elijah had been so lost in pleasure that he hadn’t even realized his grip might have hurt Connor. All he could think about was Connor’s _mouth_ and how amazing it felt and how _good_ he was at it despite this being his first time. He was relieved that Connor pinned him down, making any movement difficult. In the back of his mind, he knew Connor couldn’t swallow. The damage it would do to his system was something he wasn’t prepared to fix in a hotel room. He’d need his machines, and they were an hour away. He idly thought maybe giving Connor a functioning stomach would be a good idea after all.

His hips twitched as he came, despite Connor’s hold. He looked down at him through half lidded eyes, breathless. His shaky hand coming back to card through Connor’s hair, until he was helped to the floor. His chest heaved with every breath, his head leaning back against the wall. He was thankful to be on the floor, giving his legs a break. He kept quiet, trying to catch his breath and simply admiring Connor, watching him. He was beautiful, naked and drenched in water.

The smug grin on his face followed by his words made Elijah laugh, breathless as he was. He reached up to thread his fingers through Connor’s soaked hair, pulling him into a deep but lazy kiss. He could taste himself on Connor's lips, though he could hardly bring himself to care. When he let his head fall back against the wall for air, he spoke, his brain finally catching up.

“I like that much better too,” he mumbled against his lips, smiling. “You were _very_ good.” His mind felt muddled, hardly able to form full, coherent thoughts. He didn’t care, though. He was too blissed out to care about much, other than Connor staying close to him. He didn’t want him to leave, the hand in his hair staying put.

* * *

Connor hummed into the kiss, happy to have Elijah’s hands back in his hair. He realised as he pushed closer that he was hard as well, a function he was _entirely_ unused to. His mouth stuttered through the kiss as he tried to think of what to do. He didn’t feel the same desperate need he had the night before. He wanted to be close, he wanted to be touched, and he wanted to be in Elijah’s arms. But his arousal wasn’t _desperate_, just interested, and so he decided not to draw attention to it. He’d yet to really function properly after an orgasm, and they had things to do today.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in a kiss. It didn’t mean he couldn’t tug on Elijah’s lip with his teeth, or press as close as he could. He loved feeling Elijah’s ragged breaths, and he loved hearing how utterly _stupid_ he got during and after sex. Connor was no different, but knowing he alone had reduced one of the most intelligent men in the world to incoherency felt like a marked achievement.

“I liked the way you said my name. I like the way you plead with me,” Connor said quietly, happily tracing the side of his face with his fingertips. “You sound unlike yourself. That pleading is _just for me_. I love earning that reaction. I love how you sound during sex.”

He was also glad he’d followed Elijah into the shower. It took a little of the tension away, made Connor more willing to spend time in public with Elijah instead of tucked away in privacy.

“Tell me when you’re ready to get up and I'll help you finish your shower, Elijah.”

* * *

Elijah _wanted_ to return the favor. He felt a little selfish. He’d lost count of how many orgasms Connor had given him, but he’d only given Connor two. It felt a little unfair, even if Connor wasn’t complaining. How he _wasn’t_ complaining was beyond him. Had their roles been reversed, he was fairly sure he would have asked for some much needed attention by now. Connor was a saint.

The hand not in Connor’s hair trailed up Connor’s side, just feeling for now. He just wanted to touch him. He listened as Connor talked, smiling. “I like the same things about you,” he commented softly, pulling him in for another kiss, though he kept this one short. “Let me return the favor. I’ve only given you two orgasms and I’ve lost count of how many you’ve given me.” It was only fair. The hand on his side snaked down between them to wrap around Connor, giving him a few slow, long strokes before leaning down to wrap his mouth around him.

He loved the sounds Connor made, and he couldn’t wait until they were in their apartment where they didn’t have to try to censor themselves for the sake of their neighbors. Not that Elijah was particularly trying to censor himself, and it didn’t really seem like Connor cared either. He loved the way Connor twitched and moved. He loved everything about him.

They spent far longer in the shower than they really needed to. Elijah spent a majority of the time cuddled against him, coming down and waiting for Connor to do the same, before he was finally willing to finish showering. Once they were both clean and in clean clothes, Elijah packed up his things, loaded them into the car, and they were off to the clothing store.

The store he’d chosen was high end with a large assortment of different articles of clothing in all different styles, colors, and sizes. It was the same store he bought most of his own clothes in, often enough to be familiar with the tailor and the store owner, who greeted them upon entry.

“Where should we start?” Elijah asked, looking to Connor. He knew he’d wanted a sweater, and Elijah wanted to get him fitted for a suit. Connor clearly needed pants, if he was complaining about Elijah’s not fitting. He figured another pair of shoes might be nice too, and some shirts of different styles, maybe, some accessories, new ties… But he would let Connor decide, and he would offer his input where it was needed or requested.

* * *

Connor could have stayed in that shower until he rusted. He was sluggish and happy, and their exchange had completely set Connor at ease. His mood didn’t linger from Elijah’s CyberLife inquiries, and instead, a warm buzz overtook Connor.

He helped Elijah pack, and was clingy all the way up until they reached the hotel lifts. Connor pressed one last, lingering kiss to the back of Elijah’s neck, before strictly putting space between them just before the doors opened. Connor considered the probability of him successfully jamming the lift and blocking the cameras so he could crush Elijah with another kiss, and despite determining his success would be 100%, he decided against it.

At the clothing shop, Connor was quiet but polite, following Elijah around almost exactly how he would follow Hank. A cursory scan of the room informed Connor that almost everything Elijah had listed could be found in that store, which Connor found efficient and convenient.

“I don’t need much,” Connor answered. “I don’t sweat, and I don’t stink. I don’t need as many change of clothes as a human,” Connor said, thinking out loud. “If I have two outfits from here, that will bring me to three outfits in total. I only really need two, but having a third will be convenient in case I need an emergency change.”

He led Elijah to the shirts, and his choices were strictly cool colours. Blue, green, purple. Anything red, yellow, or orange was completely skipped over.

“I mentioned last night that I need help choosing things that will make people more comfortable around me, while also being professional. I’ve been programmed to put people at ease while they're in my company, but whoever designed it must have been a hermit or an idiot,” Connor said bluntly, his mouth quirked at the sides. “It doesn’t work.”

His fingers trailed across an impossibly soft cashmere sweater. This clothing was expensive, and nothing like what Hank owned. The quality was exquisite.

“I don’t want to look like a librarian. But I want my colleagues to believe I'm not a moment away from reaching over and snapping their necks.”

* * *

Elijah followed him over to the shirts, watching Connor as he looked through a few, so he could gauge his interests before he started picking out things himself. “I think you should have a couple of outfits to wear to work, a couple to wear out and about, and a couple to wear at home. Something professional but not stiff for work, something casual for the public, and something comfortable for at home. T-shirts and sweatpants are usually go–to at-home clothes. They’re comfortable,” Elijah said, running his fingers along the sleeve of a dark navy blue button-up.

He snorted at Connor’s remark, shaking his head. “I pity your colleagues. I would hate to be in their shoes.” He’d love to watch, though. He shook away the thoughts, refocusing on the task at hand.

“For work, you’ll want something loose enough to move around in, relaxed enough to keep your colleagues at ease, but professional enough to be intimidating when you want to be. Dark colors give off a colder feel, while lighter colors and pastels are a little more welcoming. What do you think of this one?” Elijah asked, plucking the shirt off the rack to show him. “Or, a white button-up with a tie and blazer, similar to the uniform you used to wear, would work well?”

There were plenty of options around, various different colored button-ups, as well as various different colored blazers. “You _did_ look good in your uniform, even if you did look a bit stiff. Might have just been the android identifiers though. Up to you if you’d like to try some on.” He did like the blue button-up he was holding though, and he could already see a couple of sweaters he thought Connor might like.

* * *

Connor listened to everything Elijah said, and his attention didn’t wander. Connor had every reason to trust his advice; Elijah was always impeccably dressed, even in slacks, and he was riddled through fashion magazine articles. He did, quietly, disagree that he needed so many changes of clothing. But he also didn’t argue.

“I didn’t mind my uniform,” Connor admitted, “But what made me notice that clothing could make a difference was the change in my colleagues after my accident, when Chloe gave me what I wear now,” Connor said, reaching out to hold the blue shirt Elijah had taken from the rack. The material was soft and didn’t crease easily. “At least for a little while, I'll stay away from anything that resembles my CyberLife uniform.”

As they went through things, Connor discovered creams and whites made him look pale and washed out, and a little bit cold–mannered. He suited blues and greens, and despite his reluctance, he also suited rusted orange and brown. As they selected things, an assistant began moving their selections into a change room, appearing out of nowhere just when Elijah or Connor’s hands began to get full.

When they stopped at the suits, Connor turned and gave Elijah a pointed look.

“I don’t have any need for a suit. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the occasion calls for one?” He already had so many outfits lined up. He _didn’t need_ so much.

But Connor’s fingers still trailed over the hem of an inky black waistcoat. These suits cost the same as some people’s monthly salaries. He was sure Hank didn't earn this much every payday, and he hadn't even looked at the suits which cost more. The price didn’t bother Connor. Elijah made so much interest _alone _from his fortune that being concerned about monetary overspending on his behalf was stupid, and would just cause an awkward situation. Connor’s issue was with it being unnecessary.

“Are you planning to bring me to a black-tie event soon?” he teased, looking up at a sharply dressed mannequin that had clearly been pulled out of storage recently. Androids couldn’t be used as store mannequins anymore.

* * *

Elijah could understand how the uniform Connor wore before might have intimidated people, or made them think he was less than. Without the uniform, he looked so human. The only indicator that he _wasn’t_ was his LED, which could easily be overlooked. He liked seeing Connor in regular clothes. He looked comfortable. But he also liked how he had looked in his uniform, so proper, despite the jeans. Why CyberLife thought putting him in a button-up, tie, and blazer, and _jeans_ was a good idea was beyond him. They were durable, he figured. Maybe that was why.

As they looked through more shirts, Elijah helped him pick out a few that suited him, picking a few different button up shirts, a few simple long sleeved shirts, and a couple t–shirts. They hadn’t quite made it to the sweaters, suits, or pants yet, and they’d already accumulated a hefty amount of clothes in the dressing room. It would be a lie if Elijah said he didn’t want to see Connor in a few things, with no intention of actually _buying_ them. He figured Connor could try on everything and pick and choose his favorites.

“You don’t have a need for a suit _yet_. You aren’t going to outgrow one, and money isn’t an issue. You might need one in the future. It’s better to be prepared than to wait until the last minute,” Elijah said with a small shrug. He did quite like the waistcoat Connor was looking at. It wouldn’t hurt to add it to the rack in their dressing room, let him try it. “I might be,” he admitted, though there weren’t any scheduled just yet. But with his return to CyberLife, his return to the public eye was inevitable and soon enough, he’d start receiving invitations to events again. He wanted to decline them, rude as it was, but he knew it would be in his and the company’s best interest if he went along. He had to gain the public’s good graces again, and inserting himself into the public eye was the best way to regain their trust.

“You would look fantastic in that,” he commented, nodding towards a full black and blue three-piece suit on one of the mannequins. “Although, I think you’d look fantastic in any of them.”

* * *

Connor breathed in a deep, simulated sigh, and let it out through his nose. He only needed two pairs of clothes. One to wear while the other was being cleaned. But it seemed to mean a lot to Elijah that Connor had more clothing, and so with the exception of finding a new pair of shoes – a tan pair, a pair of casual sneakers, and a pair to match his suit – Connor stopped griping about it. He doubted he’d wear even half of it, particularly the casual clothing. But Elijah seemed to have other ideas.

The black and blue suit was what they went with, and Elijah was right; Connor looked excellent in it. It was sharp and incredibly well–made, and Connor knew they would make a handsome pair if Elijah were in a suit as well.

Connor was excited to see their apartment again, and after helping Elijah load _far_ too many bags into his car, Connor spent the drive back into the CBD with a quiet smile on his face. The apartment was transformed when they entered it, and smelt of sweet baking. Their furniture was put mostly where Connor had imagined it would go. Obviously, the girls hadn’t been there when they chose it, and weren’t aware of the locations intended for certain pieces. But they’d gotten it very close. The bed was made, the cushions fluffed, and the artificial fireplace had been turned on at least an hour prior to Connor and Elijah’s arrival. On the kitchen bench was a piece of folded card.

> “_Dear Elijah and Connor,_
> 
> _Congratulations, and happy housewarming._
> 
> _A house is just a house until it smells like a home, and so this is our gift to you. _
> 
> _Creme brulee from Chloe, Tiramisu from Claire, Petite apple pie from Cleo. _
> 
> _Much love,_
> 
> _C, C, C.” _

Handing the card to Elijah, Connor crouched in front of the oven and peered inside. Sure enough, three single–serve dishes were being kept warm, visible through the window.

“It’s a shame you likely won’t eat any of them unless I hold you at knifepoint,” Connor commented dryly.

* * *

Elijah understood that Connor didn’t _need_ so many clothes, but it was good for him to have some variety for different occasions and different types of weather. He’d made sure to get Connor to choose a sweater and a lightweight jacket too, before they had left the store. He was quite pleased with the selection Connor had now, even if Connor had argued about the necessity of it all.

Once they had their bags loaded into the car, Elijah drove to the apartment, _their_ home. He parked outside in the reserved spot for their unit and got out, gathering up as many bags as he could carry before going inside and to their door. He unlocked it and pushed the door open, setting the bags down out of the way just inside.

He wasn’t surprised that the entire place already smelled lived in. He’d expected the girls to do _something_. He was glad to see that the furniture was mostly arranged the way he and Connor had envisioned it. They always did seem to be able to read his mind somehow.

Elijah followed Connor towards the kitchen, accepting the card when it was handed to him. He smiled, reading over it before setting it back on the counter. It was sweet of them, and he made a mental note to send them thank yous later. Hearing Connor’s comment, he laughed, moving to stand beside him. He took Connor’s arm and pulled him back up to his feet, leaning in for a kiss. “I eat plenty, when you aren’t distracting me.” Which was true, he usually did eat full meals, at least two out of three, a day. Sometimes he skipped breakfast or lunch, depending on when he woke up and how much he was working, but he always ate dinner and the girls always made sure to bring him something to eat if he was too busy to get himself something. It was Connor’s fault that he hadn’t eaten much of dinner the night before, and Connor didn’t even _do_ anything. He just existed in the same room and served as a distraction.

“We’re finally _alone_,” Elijah said, his arms slipping around Connor’s waist. “We have the remainder of today and all of tomorrow to ourselves.” Now the question was, what were they going to do? The furniture was already set up, and if it wasn’t where they wanted it, exactly, it would be nothing to rearrange it to their liking. It wouldn’t take up much time at all.

“What do you want to do? You’d mentioned wanting to learn how to cook?” he asked, thinking back to their earlier conversation. “I’m not the greatest, but if you want, we could make dinner together tonight. Something simple, easy for you to start out with?” They also had Connor’s clothes to put in their closet and dresser drawers. Elijah would have to bring some of his own clothes over to store there, to make staying easier. He wouldn’t have to pack a bag every time he wanted to stay with Connor, if he had some clothes and toiletries at the apartment already.

* * *

“Would you eat anything at all if Chloe didn’t pester you to?” Connor asked as he was pulled to his feet, obliging Elijah with a kiss that accompanied an affectionate smile. “Blaming me won’t work. I was practically nagging you, Elijah. You’ll have to think of a better excuse.”

But Connor melted into the loose embrace Elijah wrapped him in, his face tilting away slightly so he didn’t just stand there grinning at him. He was so relieved their morning conversation hadn’t dampened the rest of the day. He was glad he’d stretched the truth to garner these two, solid days with Elijah. And he was glad he'd trusted Elijah enough to befriend him.

“You’re in a very good mood. It suits you,” Connor said, his hand cupping the side of Elijah's face and drawing him closer. His other hand slipped behind Elijah’s neck, and he tilted his own face down as he guided Elijah’s up to his. He loved him, and they weren’t just words. The emotion felt tangible to Connor, as though it were physically felt, not emotionally. His chest drew tight, and Connor felt as though he could melt into the hold he'd twined them in.

“Yes, I'd like to learn how to cook. I’d like to cook with you, _yes_,” Connor said as his lips brushed Elijah’s cheek. His eyes were a half-mast as he gazed down at him, touching the lines of Elijah’s face.

Connor let him go, only to lead Elijah through the apartment and to the sofa they’d bought and placed beside the fire. Connor toed off his shoes before sitting, and pulled Elijah in close against him. From one side, he could feel the heat of the fireplace. From the other, he could feel Elijah.

“You’ve only asked what I want to do. What do _you_ want to do, Elijah?”

* * *

“Of course I would. I take excellent care of myself. You just happen to be very distracting. Lousy excuse or not, you _are_ a distraction. I can’t focus when you’re around. I can hardly focus when you’re _not_ around,” Elijah said honestly. His lack of focus was the _only_ downside to being so incredibly infatuated with Connor. Work that he could easily get done in a few hours before he kissed him now took a day. Work that could be done in a day now took days. He wasn’t crazy about it, but he _was_ crazy about Connor. He could put up with slower job completion if it meant he got to see Connor often enough. Designated Mondays, and any other day Elijah could come to the apartment. He would be in the area often enough if he was going to be at CyberLife HQ more often. He could stop by the apartment whenever Connor had some free time.

Elijah smiled at Connor’s comment, happily meeting him partway for the kiss. He hummed into it, melting against him. He loved Connor’s kisses, no matter how chaste, how tame, or how filthy they were. He particularly loved the kisses where he could _feel_ Connor’s emotions through them. When he got those kisses, he didn’t need to hear Connor say he loved him. He could feel it, and he hoped Connor could feel it too.

“Pasta is simple enough, as are salads. We could start there. We may have to go get the ingredients though, I’m not sure if the girls bought anything other than what they needed for their housewarming gifts,” he replied, letting himself be led to the couch. He toed off his shoes too, once they made it there, before settling in beside him. He wrapped his arms around Connor’s middle and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before resting his head there.

“I’ll happily do whatever you want to do, Connor,” he told him, turning his head to press a kiss against his neck. “Although,” his voice dropped to a whisper against his ear, “I _would like_ to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you senseless.” He only lingered there for a second before resting his head against Connor’s shoulder again, speaking plainly again when he continued. “Or vice versa, I’m not picky. But we could stay like this. Watch a movie, maybe? Make dinner together, relax, do nothing in particular…”

* * *

Connor frowned a little, his LED cycling once. He had just as many recipes in his mind as Chloe did, and likely more than Elijah would ever learn. They didn’t need to start simple, but if Elijah wanted to make pasta and chop salad, Connor wouldn’t argue with him.

“I’m not in the mood to go out again. If we need ingredients, we can have them delivered,” Connor said instead, carding his fingers back up Elijah’s undercut and into his hair.

When Elijah gave a noncommittal answer, he thought of suggesting a movie. He watched movies with Hank and found they were excellent ways to study human micro–emotions. Expressions, body language, and even slang, given that they were made recently. The plots themselves rarely actually interested Connor, with a few exceptions. He enjoyed watching humans pretend.

Opening his mouth to communicate this, Connor’s thoughts are completely bowled over by Elijah's next suggestion. He _shivered_, and then practically rolled his eyes at the alternatives.

“Interesting how your first thought is to fuck me against a completely impractical surface, and not the bedroom we went to so much effort decorating,” Connor said conversationally, despite feeling _anything_ but. “I suppose we should fuck beside the bed, too. Why use it at all?” Connor turned his face, and nipped gently at the shell of Elijah’s ear. “But if you insist on watching a movie, I caught the last twenty minutes of an old movie called The Matrix last week at Hank’s. I’d be interested to watch it from the start.” But Connor sorely doubted that any movie would be interesting enough for the two of them to keep their hands to themselves for two hours and sixteen minutes...

* * *

“Neither am I,” Elijah agreed. They’d just made it home and hadn’t spent much time there yet. He had no desire to leave anytime soon. Delivery sounded like a good idea. They’d just have to see if the girls did any shopping for them. If not, delivery it is. “Would you want to make something else? Pasta and salad didn’t seem to pique your interest at all.” He’d only suggested them because they were simple. The RK800 wasn’t programmed to cook. Sure, Connor knew recipes and likely knew _how_ cooking worked, but knowing was much easier than doing. Elijah knew plenty of recipes and he knew how to cook too but that didn’t mean he didn’t burn things. There was a reason the girls cooked most of his meals.

The shiver that ran through Connor at his suggestion was exactly the response he’d hoped to get, a smirk creeping onto his face. “We’ve spent plenty of time in beds. We have this entire apartment to ourselves. We aren’t confined to a bedroom or a bathroom anymore. _Any_ surface would do, no matter how impractical you might think it is,” he replied, an unsteady breath escaping him as Connor nipped at his ear. He _was_ still fairly sated from earlier though. He didn’t have some desperate need to touch or be touched, at least not right now. As much as he wouldn’t _mind_ getting lost in everything that was Connor again, he did recognize that they’d hardly done anything _but_ be sexually intimate. They were either working on a project together or had their hands all over each other. Watching a movie or just sitting and talking again were good enough options. But then again, they could watch a movie or chat over dinner.

“We could watch the Matrix, if you want. Now or during dinner?” he asked, turning his head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder. He didn’t really care what they watched. He’d seen most of the more popular movies already, so he didn’t have much of a preference. Connor was the one who hadn’t seen them yet, so he figured he’d let Connor decide what they watched. “When would you want to make dinner? What time is it?” He’d just realized they didn’t have a clock in the room. He knew it was sometime after noon. His breakfast earlier had been closer to lunch than actual breakfast. He thought it might be too early to start dinner just yet, though they probably should check what ingredients they had so they could figure out what to order.

* * *

Had he been too blunt? Connor had to take a moment to read Elijah, for a moment unsure of what he actually wanted. After a few seconds, he realised he was blandly teasing just the way Connor was, and it brought a wry smile to Connor’s lips. And so he didn’t answer him, not feeling as though Elijah’s comments particularly _required_ answers, and instead caught his lips in a kiss.

Connor had been spoiled. The new parts, the constant attention, the intimacy. Like Elijah, Connor had noticed that the variance in their activities together was limited, and yet he also didn’t mind. He didn’t doubt that there would be times in the future where they would exist in the same room without saying much, both of them absorbed in some kind of work. Connor could see they both wanted to be close to each other. Denying that, when they'd both be busy later, seemed like a waste.

Connor felt the kiss switch gears, and before it could get too heavy he broke it just enough so he could speak against Elijah’s lips.

“I don’t know if the same applies to me. I don’t know how the part works. But for sex to be comfortable for you, we need lubrication. Did you bring any?” Connor asked, his gaze lifting to Elijah’s as he gently nipped his bottom lip. “If we leave to buy anything, it should be that.”

* * *

Elijah had been expecting answers, but he surely wasn’t disappointed by receiving a kiss instead. He hummed happily into it, more than willing to deepen it. He figured this was answer enough. Dinner and the movie could wait. Besides, they only had the rest of the day and the following day to do whatever they wanted before work swept them away again. Might as well get it out of their systems now. Maybe then, Elijah would be able to focus on his work. Probably not, but he could hope.

He had been about to move into Connor’s lap when the kiss was broken. He was only mildly disappointed, thinking that maybe Connor was going to refuse, withhold himself until Elijah ate again. He was relieved when that wasn’t the case. “I did,” he replied with a smile and pressed his lips to Connor’s again, the kiss short albeit less than chaste, before he pulled back completely, letting him go and getting up off of the couch. “I find it hilarious that you were so adamant about me eating earlier that you would withhold sex, but now you’re more willing to leave the apartment to buy lube than to buy ingredients for dinner,” he teased as he crossed the room to his bag, rummaging through it for just a moment before locating the bottle.

When he returned, Elijah climbed into Connor’s lap, his legs straddling Connor’s and sitting back on his legs. “The part originally came equipped with a self–lubricating system, but I wasn’t sure if that was something you’d want. It’s functional, just inactive. You can activate it yourself, if that’s something you’d want. It doesn’t necessarily matter either way, if I brought some,” he said, setting the bottle down on the couch cushion beside them as he leaned in to continue their kiss, one hand resting on Connor’s shoulder while the other one cupped his face, his fingers teasing the hair at the nape of Connor’s neck.

* * *

Connor fidgeted when Elijah got off the couch and left him. He missed him, which was _ridiculous_, and the notion annoyed Connor a little. He shouldn’t miss Elijah when he was _right there_. Nevertheless, he had the decency to look a little humbled by the tease, even as he defended himself.

“You can order in if we don’t have time to cook,” he said, and even to Connor, it came off a bit lame. In truth, having something like lube being a single order to their apartment made Connor a little nervous. The precinct could look at order information and transaction history on a victim’s records, and Connor didn’t doubt the same information could be bought by the press. Elijah was important and elusive enough for people to try. And lube didn’t leave much of a question as to what Elijah Kamski was _doing_ in his new CBD apartment, if it was caught wind of.

And while he would usually have _zero_ reluctance in being long–winded, he also wasn’t sure if the topic of Elijah’s personal information being easily bought would sour the mood or not. And so he left it for another time.

Connor made a delighted noise in the back of his throat when Elijah climbed into his lap, his hands immediately traveling up the backs of his thighs. This LED began to cycle blue as he looked for the system Elijah mentioned, and his eyebrows twitched a little higher when he found it.

“That’s very convenient in a pinch,” he said through a smirk, and happily lifted his chin to kiss Elijah. The position they were in was _lovely_, and Connor’s hands happily roamed as he let the kiss deepen. He wasn’t sure which position Elijah wanted, and for once he didn’t mind _not knowing_. Instead, he relaxed, slipping his fingers beneath Elijah’s shirt and tracing the muscle along his spine.

Connor sighed a happy moan into Elijah’s mouth, savouring him and their kiss. There was no rush. There was no need for them to hurry at all. He wasn’t desperate, this wasn’t a quickie pressed up against the hotel door. He didn’t want to hurry so they could install a part, or finish before the water ran cold. He was warm by a fire, with his hands full of a man he so deeply loved, with nothing left in their day but each other. If Elijah wanted to have sex against their kitchen counter then why not. If he wanted to fuck against every available surface, then _why not_.

Connor took the pause when Elijah needed to breathe to start undressing him. He pushed his jacket off his arms, and then lifted Elijah’s shirt over his head. Connor, as always, didn’t allow any of it to fall to the floor, folding both garments in half and then laying them on the armrest of the sofa. His hands ran up Elijah’s hips and over his stomach, sliding up his chest before he hooked his arms up, around Elijah’s neck.

“I love you. _Very_ much.”

* * *

Food was the last thing on Elijah’s mind now. He’d happily wait until later, and honestly, he didn’t mind if he didn’t eat dinner at all. They had the sweets the girls made. He could have one of those later, if they ran out of time to order something. He didn’t particularly care. What he wanted right now was Connor. Although, unlike all the times before, he wasn’t desperate. He didn’t feel the need to tear Connor’s clothes off and touch him everywhere, or be touched in return. He was willing to take his time, admire every inch of him. They weren’t in a rush. They didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything until Thursday morning. It was nice to be able to slow down and really appreciate him, show him how much he loved him. Maybe now he could get even, repay Connor for all the attention he’d given him.

The self–lubricating system was a feature both the HR and the WR series had. He thought it might be convenient for them, but since humans weren’t capable of it, he wasn’t sure if it was a feature Connor would want. He figured he would keep it intact but deactivate it, and let Connor decide if he wanted it or not. If he did, great. If not, it wasn’t a big deal. He could always buy more lube if they ran out, and he didn’t particularly care who knew about it. The public already had their suspicions about him, knowing he had at least Chloe living with him. He’d seen the gossip magazines and the rumors spread online so many years ago, and it really hadn’t surprised him. He never let it bother him, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let it bother him now, if word got out that he was sleeping with Connor. He just didn’t want the public to harass Connor for it. He had work to do, he didn’t need the public’s attention.

Elijah was content to just kiss him all night, though he knew eventually, kissing and touching would lead to more. He _wanted_ it to lead to more. He just wanted to take his time this time around. He loved the closeness of their current position. He loved the control it gave him, and he especially loved the view. Their kiss was slow and deep, not desperate and needy, and when he had to break away for air, it wasn’t the end of the world.

As Connor eased off his jacket and pulled his shirt up and off, Elijah cooperated, moving his arms to help him. He thought it was cute how Connor was always so careful with their clothes, never letting them hit the floor. He didn’t particularly care where they wound up, as long as they were able to find them again later. His own hands slid underneath the hem of Connor’s shirt, teasingly running along the skin just above his waistband while he waited for Connor to finish setting his clothes aside. Once his arms were free, Elijah began tugging off Connor’s clothes, pushing his jacket back off of his shoulders and tugging his shirt up and over his head once Connor’s arms were free of the jacket. He humored Connor this time and folded the shirt, setting it aside with the other clothes.

“I love you too, Connor,” he said with a smile, leaning in for another kiss. His hands slid up his chest and down his sides, feeling every inch he could reach, just touching, light and soft. When he had to break away for air again, he kissed along Connor’s jawline, to his ear. He nipped at the shell of Connor’s ear, whispering, “I think it’s time I repaid you. You’re far too generous,” before he kissed a trail down Connor’s neck. He shifted back a little, enough that he could reach between them to undo the fly of Connor’s pants. He grabbed the waistband and pulled, tugging them down his thighs. He got up, just long enough to pull Connor’s pants off all the way. He folded them in half and tossed them onto the armrest with the other clothes, before adding his own to the pile. With no clothes between them, he returned to Connor, but didn’t climb back on top of him. Instead, he sank to his knees between Connor’s legs, running his hands up his thighs. One hand rested on his thigh while the other wrapped around him, giving him a few slow, long strokes. He still wasn’t in any rush, planning on taking his time and dragging it out as long as he could, though he wasn’t sure if things would really go that way once they really got past just kissing and touching.

* * *

He liked the new pace they were setting. He liked the slow burn they were creating, a pleasure that buried deep instead of searing. He loved the way Elijah’s body felt, he loved how he was being kissed. He could feel how much Elijah loved him. He could feel how _happy_ he was. Connor considered the phrase ‘_drunk with love_’, and thought that yes. He understood.

“It isn’t a competition. And if it were, maybe I like being in the lead,” Connor shuddered his answer at the whisper in his ear. But he cooperated, all the same, raising his hips a little to help Elijah remove his pants, and sighing with relief when he did. He was still wearing Elijah’s, and they had been getting _uncomfortably_ tight.

Connor’s eyes flicked appreciatively over Elijah when he was fully undressed, and he began to chew on the inside of his lip when he crouched between Connor’s legs. This wasn’t the correct position for the kind of sex Elijah had suggested, and it’s a thought that stays with Connor even as Elijah’s hand wrapped around him. A shaky breath he didn’t need is forced out of Connor, his head tipping up with a hiss.

“Elijah, you know I can’t function for a while after I orgasm,” Connor said breathlessly and ran his hand around the back of Elijah’s neck. “If you want it hard and deep and fast you should let me go first. I need to be able to think so I don’t hurt you the first time.”

But his hand still carded into Elijah’s hair, pushing it out of his face and behind his ears. He didn’t stop Elijah past his words. He felt _good_. Elijah always knew how to make him feel good...

* * *

It wasn’t a competition, but it still felt a little unfair. Connor deserved to be spoiled just as much, and Elijah planned to see to it. Although, when Connor spoke up again once Elijah had situated himself between his legs, he’d had a point. Considering it would technically be their first time, and how strong Connor was, he _could_ potentially hurt him without meaning to. If he lost control and underestimated his own strength, it could be bad. So maybe it was best if he _did_ hold off on getting even. They had plenty of time, after all.

However, despite coming to the decision to wait, Elijah still leaned in to tease the head with his tongue, watching Connor’s reactions. He only swirled his tongue around it and over the slit, giving him a few more strokes before removing himself completely, just giving him enough to leave him wanting more. He climbed back onto the couch, straddling Connor’s lap again. He ran his hands up Connor’s arms, to his shoulders, and rested his arms there before leaning in for a kiss, long and deep. He shifted his lower half closer to grind his hips down against Connor’s, letting out a soft moan into the kiss. He caught Connor’s lower lip between his teeth as he pulled back for air and to speak again. “If you want to go first, how do you want me? _Where_ do you want me?” he asked, one of his hands moving to slide into Connor’s hair from the nape of his neck, traveling upwards. He _loved_ his hair. It was the perfect length to hold onto. Short enough that his hand didn’t get lost and tangled, but long enough to grab and pull. “Do you want me facing you like this, on my back, bent over? Here on the couch, on the counter, in bed?”

He wanted to give Connor options, to let him choose how he wanted their first time to go. Elijah had no preference, other than wanting to be able to kiss him and touch him, though it would be nice to be able to see him. He wanted to be able to see Connor’s face, to watch him come undone and lose control. He wasn’t particularly concerned about being hurt. He didn’t mind if Connor got rough. He didn’t mind bruises or being sore for a few days. In fact, he welcomed it. The discomfort would be a pleasant reminder.

* * *

Connor’s head fell back with a shaky moan as Elijah ignored him and leant in anyway. His stomach sucked in, and he pushed into a shallow arch, his fingers firmly curling into Elijah’s hair. He made a frustrated sound when he realised he was being teased, his hand sliding up Elijah’s lower back. And when he rolled his hips, Connor gasped, matching Elijah’s soft moan with a quiet one of his own.

And it’s with a jolt that Connor realised, this pleasure would be _mutual_. There were no taking turns. He and Elijah would both finish, both at the same time, and it’s a thought that slapped a sudden grin across Connor’s face.

Anyone else might have been embarrassed by the obvious way in which Connor considered Elijah’s suggestions. He could see each position in his mind's eye, not unlike when he was unraveling a case. Elijah had specifically been against a bed, and so he scratched that off the list. He'd also been the one to express wanting to fuck _Connor_ against the counter, and so he pushed that aside, too, leaving it for Elijah. He knew he wanted Elijah to be facing him. The wall was a very tempting option, Connor was strong enough to hold Elijah up, but it would disable his arms and hands somewhat, and make the lube difficult to reach. The rug on the floor beside them was also tempting, but it risked carpet burn.

Resting on a decision, Connor’s hands ran up the back of both of Elijah’s thighs, and over his ass. The second and third fingers of both hands slipped inside the crease of Elijah’s cheeks, and his thumb pressed firmly into the cheek flesh.

“Stay just as you are. I can see you, and I can reach everything I need to,” Connor said against Elijah’s lips. “Please communicate with me. I know the mechanics. I know what to do. But knowing and _doing_, I've learned, can be completely different. You won’t sour the mood if you tell me I'm hurting you.”

With that, Connor excitedly ran his teeth over his own bottom lip, his gaze flicking from Elijah’s eyes, to down between them. He would need to shift his hips forward if Elijah was to be seated properly, but he could do that later.

Connor ducked his face away from Elijah as he reached over to pick up the bottle of lube. A strange, excited nervousness gripped him as he opened it, and he looked down as he rubbed his fingers together, the surface of them impossibly slick. He didn’t have skin for friction. His fingers were plastic, and he hoped quite suddenly that Elijah wouldn’t mind as he looked back up and pressed a kiss to his lips. His clean hand lingered on Elijah’s face, and only disappeared when the kiss deepened with a moan from Connor. That hand traveled down and behind, spreading Elijah’s cheeks and allowing the slick, second finger of his other hand to gently rub, and then _slowly_ push inside.

* * *

The sounds that came out of Connor were beautiful, as always. Elijah never got tired of hearing him, and now they had no reason to even try to muffle their voices. They could be as loud as they wanted without the risk of someone calling in a noise complaint. He was looking forward to hearing more of him, not only being able to watch him lose control, but _hear_ it too.

Elijah didn’t understand what the stupid grin on Connor’s face was for and he didn’t question it. Instead, while Connor pondered his options, he pressed small kisses to Connor’s lips and jaw, his fingernails lightly scratching up and down Connor’s scalp. His breath hitched in his throat and he shuddered as Connor’s hands ran up his thighs and over his ass, leaning back into his touch just a little. He nodded in response to Connor’s request. “I will,” he breathed out, barely above a whisper.

He knew knowing and doing were vastly different. He’d let Connor know if he hurt him or did something he didn’t like, though he doubted he’d have to. He also planned on telling him what he _did_ like, shower him with praise, so he could know what he was doing was right. He wanted Connor to know how appreciated he was, and how _good_ he made him feel. He deserved it.

Elijah’s breathing picked up with anticipation as Connor reached for the bottle, his excitement growing. He wasn’t nervous or afraid. He trusted Connor completely. He had no fear that Connor might hurt him. He watched as Connor lubed up his fingers and he shifted slightly, readjusting his weight to be more comfortable. He watched his hand and followed Connor’s gaze, up until his lips were captured in another kiss. Elijah melted into it, letting out a shuddered breath.

As Connor’s fingers found his entrance, his breath hitched again. The sensation surely wasn’t unwelcome, but it felt foreign. Not quite uncomfortable, but not quite pleasant just yet. His grip on Connor’s shoulder tightened just slightly and he forced himself to exhale against Connor’s lips, trying to relax. “I’m okay,” he breathed out in reassurance, knowing Connor would definitely be able to feel how tense he’d gotten. “Don’t stop.”

* * *

As though to immediately prove his point, Connor had known there would be muscle resistance. He just hadn’t realised what that truly meant. He noted the way Elijah’s muscles gathered in his back, the way the muscle around his finger _tensed_, and quickly realised that if Elijah didn’t relax they wouldn’t be getting anywhere anytime soon.

Instead of answering, Connor’s brows knit in worry. He gently kissed the underside of Elijah’s jaw, trying to soothe him as his finger slid back out again. Connor did as he was told, pushing back in as he took Elijah’s lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

Connor kept Elijah spread with his thumb and pinky fingers, and trailed his other hand around Elijah’s hips. Connor’s shoulders shifted as he reached between them and took Elijah in his hand. Connor stroked from base to tip, and ran his thumb around the head in mimicry of Elijah’s tongue. He traced the slit, smearing whatever wetness was there, and opened his mouth to press the kiss from gentle to filthy.

He kept at it, his mouth and both hands busy, until he broke the kiss to watch Elijah’s face as he pressed in a second finger. He was forced to let go of Elijah to add more lube, mouthing at his jaw as he did it. He could press deeper with two fingers, and Connor began to gently mimic a thrust, his lips parted a little as he watched Elijah’s face as he did it. His fingers curled inside of him, once, twice – and on the third, Connor stuttered his movements a little when he unexpectedly felt a change in texture beneath his fingertips.

The grin he pressed against Elijah’s neck proved Connor was _very_ aware of male anatomy, and knew exactly what he was doing as he ground his fingertips against Elijah’s prostate on the next curl of his fingers.

* * *

Elijah focused on his breathing, trying to relax. _God_, it had been far too long. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with anyone, but he knew it had to have been at least ten years, and that was ridiculous. Maybe that was why he couldn’t keep his hands off of Connor. He didn’t think about it long, every thought in his head disappearing as Connor pressed his finger back in. He let out a shaky breath against Connor’s lips, allowing himself to get swept away by the kiss.

With his eyes closed, he could feel Connor’s other arm shift through the hand on his shoulder, and somehow, he hadn’t expected Connor’s hand go where it did. He gasped against his lips, his hips giving an involuntary roll into his hand. His grip on Connor’s shoulder and in his hair tightened and he moaned into the kiss as it shifted from sweet and gentle into something more. He was gradually starting to relax, letting out soft moans with each movement of Connor’s hand or his finger.

When Connor broke the kiss and let go, Elijah almost whined in protest. His face was flushed, eyebrows knit together, eyes closed, and mouth open just slightly as he breathed heavily. The second finger was uncomfortable at first, his face scrunching up as he bit his lower lip, but the discomfort didn’t last long. The extra lube and the in and out movements helped him adjust easily enough and soon, he was breathing out quiet, breathy moans with each thrust of his fingers. He almost rocked back against his fingers, but he kept himself still, at least for now.

Elijah could _feel_ Connor’s fingers curling experimentally, as if they were searching, and even though he expected it, the second Connor’s fingers found their mark, his body jolted and his face scrunched up again, a surprised moan leaving his lips. And when Connor did it a second time, with purpose, Elijah’s head fell back with a deep, unabated moan.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. “Fuck, Connor, don’t stop.”

* * *

The sounds Elijah was making as Connor used just his _fingers_ were beautiful. Usually, Elijah was quiet until just towards the end, and Connor had to mostly rely on the state of his breathing. Moans were usually much harder to earn.

Not this time.

And when Elijah’s head tipped back, and the room was full of his unabashed moan, _heat_ crawled under Connor’s skin as his mouth opened with a soft sound of his own. Elijah was beautiful, and Connor was torn between wanting to kiss him or keep watching him.

With his eyes lidded, Connor decided on the latter.

Bracing a hand on Elijah’s hip, Connor rubbed a firm, tight circle against the mark. He held Elijah still as he did it, as well as he could, unable to look away from the expression on his face. And when he pulled his fingers out again, Connor gently began to spread his knuckles, knowing he had to stretch Elijah a lot further before he could enter him.

“I could listen to you like this for hours, Elijah. You’re _beautiful_,” Connor said against his neck. Would his anatomy be the same? Would Elijah need to open him like this? So far, he’d been more sensitive than Elijah in almost all aspects, and watching Elijah react the way he did made him wonder if he’d even last.

Connor waited until he could spread his knuckles almost a finger–width apart before adding a third with more lube. He used his wrist to thrust in an out of Elijah in a manner that would have cramped a human wrist before long. He reached up to wrap his hand in Elijah’s hair, and pulled him down for a kiss that was a little rough, and utterly filthy. He was almost ready, he could feel Elijah adjusting to him, and he swallowed each and every moan and sound that tumbled out of him. Connor’s hand was _relentless_, and only slowed when he could feel Elijah struggling to catch his breath between kisses.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Connor asked, more as a gesture than a question as he adjusted his position, scooting down the couch just a little so his hips weren't flush with the backrest, and Elijah had more room. Three fingers should have been enough, but Connor worried anyway.

“_Tell me_ if I hurt you, please,” Connor murmured, taking himself in hand and guiding Elijah’s hips down.

* * *

Elijah _wanted_ to move, though he didn’t know where. He wanted to press back against Connor’s fingers, but at the same time, he wanted to escape the torturous pressure. Connor’s firm hold on his hip prevented him from moving at all, taking the decision completely out of his hands. He wasn’t sure whether he should be thankful or not. All he could do was moan and swear, digging his blunt nails into Connor’s shoulder.

Connor _could_ listen to him for hours, if they invested in the cock ring Connor had mentioned before. Bring him close to the edge and steal it away each time, however many times he wanted. If it was really something Connor was interested in trying, he’d have to buy one. But that wasn’t much of a concern in the meantime. Connor would have to make do with what he got, and Elijah doubted he’d complain.

The slight stretch had burned a little at first, but like before, the discomfort faded fast, and the third finger hardly had any negative effect. The movements Connor made with his wrist were _delightful_ and had him moaning in no time. He was so grateful for the kiss when Connor pulled him into it, the tension on his hair stinging just a little, but never in a bad way. He loved the roughness of it, just like he loved Connor’s hand in his hair, and he especially loved the way Connor’s other wrist twisted his fingers inside him. Without any restraints to prevent him from moving, he rocked his hips back against Connor’s fingers, his breathing growing more labored with each moan that left him.

When Connor broke the kiss to ask if he was ready, all he felt capable of doing was nodding an enthusiastic yes. Once Connor had gotten situated again and Elijah had a brief second to collect himself just a small fraction, he managed an actual response. “I will,” he reassured breathlessly, leaning in for another kiss as Connor guided his hips down.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as Connor breached him, and he slowly, _so_ slowly, lowered himself down until he was fully seated on him. He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, a deep shudder rolling through his body. He felt so _full_, and he needed a moment to catch his breath before he could even attempt moving, his thighs shaking. Once he felt capable enough, using the leverage he had on Connor’s shoulders, he very slowly raised himself up, almost completely off, before just as slowly sinking back down again, a shuddered moan slipping past his lips, his head fallen back again.

* * *

Connor’s mouth slid open against Elijah’s, his eyebrows pulling up as he felt Elijah around him. He'd felt it with his fingers, but simply hadn’t prepared him. A _deep_, strangled moan was wrenched out of Connor, and when Elijah was fully seated, Connor let out a moan through his teeth.

“_Elijah_,” Connor whined, his expression a little desperate as he looked up at him. And when Elijah gripped his shoulders, Connor shuddered the whole way up, and moaned almost the whole way back down again.

It had been easy, so far. Opening Elijah with his fingers hadn’t taken much coordination or finesse, just persistence. Coordinating their movements was a different story, and so at first, Connor let Elijah move. Waiting for him to adjust was _excruciating_. He wanted to roll his hips up, and it was Connor who dug his fingernails into Elijah as he forced himself to stay still.

He wasn’t paying attention the first time he thrust up. It was hard and sharp, and came with a dirty slap of skin, and Connor’s hands flew to Elijah’s hips as he froze.

“Sorry,” he gasped, running a soothing hand up Elijah’s side. “Sorry, I'm sorry.”

* * *

Connor’s strangled moan along with the way he said his name was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Connor himself. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to draw more of those beautiful sounds out of him. It urged him to continue on, though he kept his movements slow as he adjusted gradually, a soft moan leaving him each time he sank back down on him.

Elijah leaned in for a kiss, his hands coming up to cup Connor’s face. The kiss was deep and desperate and he easily got lost in it. The rise and fall of his hips grew a fraction faster. Connor’s nails digging into his skin only encouraged him, not needing to see or hear him to know Connor was thoroughly enjoying it.

When Connor’s hips snapped up, it knocked a sharp gasp out of Elijah, his hands flying back to his shoulders and his movements halting. It didn’t really _hurt_, but it surprised him, and the slap of skin on skin stung a little. He let out a slow breath, collecting himself at least a little before attempting to talk.

“I’m okay. It’s okay,” he assured breathlessly, one of his hands coming back up to cup his face, running his thumb over his cheek. “You didn’t hurt me.” Slowly, he allowed himself to sink back down on him, resuming his slow rise and fall. “You can move. It’s okay. I won’t break.”

* * *

Connor’s relief was visible in the way his shoulders dropped, and his expression relaxed. His right hand was still slick with lube, and so he used his left to card through his hair, guiding Elijah back down for another kiss.

“I feel so close to you,” Connor whispered against his lips, and much gentler this time, Connor rolled his hips up as Elijah came down. It had Connor moaning into the kiss, his hand curling into Elijah’s hair. He let Elijah set the pace for now, and repeated the movement, meeting him each and every time Elijah came down.

And as they did, Connor’s kisses got hungrier, and his arm wrapped around him tighter, wanting more of him.

“Show me what you meant,” Connor gasped up against him, both hands coming to Elijah’s hips as the two of them moved together. “By hard and deep, show me. Show me how much.”

* * *

Elijah happily returned the kiss, pressing his forehead to Connor’s when he broke away for air and for Connor to speak. They were as close as they could possibly be like this, and Elijah loved it. He wished he could be _closer_, but for a human, this was as close as they could get. He didn’t fully understand how interfacing felt, but he could use his imagination. It almost made him jealous, almost made him feel like maybe Connor was missing out.

His train of thought was cut very short when Connor met him on the way down, knocking a moan out of him. That was _much_ better. He kept the pace slow at first, gradually getting just a little faster as he grew more desperate. He’d wanted to drag it out, really take their time to enjoy it, but he was going to get worn out sooner than later.

He returned each and every kiss Connor gave him, each one more and more needy. He wrapped his arms around Connor’s neck, resting on his shoulders, to be closer to him, the angle changing just slightly. He picked up the pace again, moaning against Connor’s lips upon hearing his request.

“What you did earlier is good...” he said between breaths. “You won’t hurt me.” That was a part he couldn’t show him. He could only show his side of things, and he could only do so much on his own. He sped up more, making a conscious effort to lift almost completely off before quickly falling back down completely, each descent knocking a moan out of him.

* * *

Connor swallowed those pretty moans, gazing up at Elijah as though he couldn’t quite believe he was there. He wondered if the smell of sex would ever fade from their brand new couch. He wondered if he’d ever stop being so utterly, obsessively, infatuated with the man on top of him. He loved Elijah so much he felt consumed by him, and it was _such_ an incredible feeling.

At Elijah’s suggestion, Connor’s eyebrows raised in a silent, ‘_Are you sure?_’ But Elijah had said at the time that it hadn’t hurt. He’d specifically told Connor that he couldn’t break. He'd promised he would say something if Connor was too rough.

He kissed Elijah around the moan already slipping through his teeth, and caught it with a hum of his own. Connor’s knees shifted beneath Elijah as he planted his feet, and with the grip he had on Elijah’s hips, and pulled down as his hips snapped up with a sharp, _rude_ slap of skin. Connor _moaned_ at the feeling, rolling his hips and snapping them up again, and again, and _again_. Connor’s mouth fell open as he stared up at Elijah, his hands pulling Elijah down and then guiding him up with every hard smack of skin.

But before long, Connor simply held Elijah in one place. He began to slow, partly so Elijah could catch his breath, and partly for an ulterior motive. His hips rolled at a slightly different angle each time, subtly changing, until an involuntary jerk of Elijah’s body had Connor breathlessly grinning.

“_There_,” Connor whispered, his gaze lifting to Elijah’s face as he thrust up again, again, _again, again. _Hard, deep, and _fast_. And this time, Connor made sure he didn’t miss the mark.

* * *

Elijah knew the questioning look on Connor’s face. He didn’t bother answering him. He’d had his answer at least twice now. Elijah could take it. He _wanted_ it. He wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t something he was okay with, and he was far more than okay with it. He liked the roughness just as much as he liked the tenderness, and he would happily take on or the other. He was content to continue on as they were, but Connor wanted him to show him how it felt, and he was very happy to oblige.

The first sharp thrust upwards had knocked a sharp gasp out of him again, but each thrust after resulted in breathy moans. Elijah moved with him, matching the pace Connor set, rising himself up and letting himself fall with the help of Connor’s hands on his hips. The change of pace was _nice_, but he was tiring quickly, his legs wearing out. He was thankful when Connor held him in place and took over, giving him a chance to recover, catch his breath, regain enough strength in his legs to keep going.

But Elijah didn’t get to catch his breath for long. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Connor shifting angles meant he was searching. It hadn’t occurred to him to be prepared. So when Connor found his mark, Elijah’s body jolted and his toes curled, his head falling back with a loud moan of pure pleasure. “Just like that,” he breathed. “Feels so good.” He couldn’t even find the words.

Each sharp thrust against his prostate had his moans increasing in volume as he grew closer and closer to the edge. His legs trembled beneath him, and he was _so_ thankful for Connor’s hands on his hips, holding him in place. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep up the pace on his own.

* * *

Connor’s face tucked against Elijah’s shoulder, his own moans quiet against the racket Elijah was making. His own pleasure was quickly spreading beneath his skin, and he understood why he’d been so restless before. He’d wanted this, and he hadn’t known it.

Connor wished he had more hands. He wanted to pull Elijah’s head back by his hair so he'd moan louder. But he also wanted to get a hand between them push Elijah over the edge that way, too. He could barely do one and hold him steady, let alone both, and Elijah wasn’t in any state to hold himself steady.

Connor’s fingers dug into Elijah’s hips, his pleasure heady as Elijah’s thighs trembled. He’d have to pull his hair another time, Connor decided, one hand letting him go to shove between them and wrap around Elijah. His tempo there was just as relentless, and Connor moaned at the _mess_ Elijah had already leaked between them.

In the end, Connor found he _could_ pull Elijah’s hair while the other hand was busy. His hair was sweaty and damp, and gave Connor an excellent grip as he roughly held him firm as he fucked up into him. He was close, and he could feel that Elijah was, too

“Elijah, I'm–– I _can’t_–– Elijah––” Connor moaned into Elijah’s ear, the grip in his hair tightening. He didn’t want to come first, but he was on a hair-trigger, and he couldn’t tense up the way he had before. Connor began to tremble, his teeth gritting as his movements abruptly lost their rhythm. A soft keen ripped through Connor as he felt it begin to happen, because he didn’t _want_ to be first. But that keen built into a yell as Connor fell apart, and a clear, unmuffled moan as he felt his own release _immediately_ make Elijah slicker and hotter.

Connor was _wrecked _as he looked up at Elijah, determined not to let himself wipe out until he was sure Elijah was satisfied, too. His LED was red with the effort, and the circle was broken, barely keeping lit. He so _desperately_ wanted to let himself collapse.

* * *

The grip on his hips was tight enough to bruise, and he _hoped_ it did. He _hoped_ he was sore afterwards. He was fairly certain he would be, and he was also fairly certain Connor would be a concerned mess, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care in the moment. He’d cross that bridge once they came to it.

Connor’s hand wrapping around him was a godsend, though in truth, he didn’t even need it. He could have just as easily come without it, though his hand matching the same rhythm as his thrusts coupled with Connor pulling him back by his hair and the moaned words from Connor was enough to send him over the edge much quicker than he could have imagined. He came with a cry of pleasure, his entire body seized as it ripped through him. His entire body trembled and shuddered through the aftershocks, his tensed muscles slowly starting to relax as he came down. His breathing was labored and his whole body felt so heavy, yet he didn’t want to move. He had no motivation to get up or even clean up the mess he’d made on their stomachs and Connor’s chest.

Once he was positive Connor had finished too, he let himself collapse against Connor’s chest, his face pressed into the side of Connor’s neck, his chest heaving with each breath he tried to catch. “You’re amazing,” he mumbled against Connor’s neck, lazily pressing a kiss into the skin there. “I love you, so much. Can’t even tell you how much.”

Elijah was perfectly content to stay just like that, still seated on him, pressed impossibly close. He would only move if Connor asked him to or moved him on his own. He _hoped_ Connor didn’t ask him to move and expect him to be able to, though. The most he felt he was capable of was rolling off of him, and he really didn’t want to.

* * *

“I love you, too,” is all Connor managed, before his LED flickered to a familiar rotating bar of blue, and he melted beneath Elijah. He was in no hurry to get up, or move, or even pull out of Elijah. And it was a laziness that was almost constant throughout the next day and a half.

He and Elijah were shameless. Not a second was wasted together, and Connor smiled so often, so wide, that it was easy to forget that his smiles were rare.

He didn’t burn the pasta. But he burnt the sauce. He burnt Elijah’s toast. He burnt his coffee when he tried to make it from scratch, and at one point filled the kitchen _entirely_ with smoke, forcing him to shove open their windows and hack the fire alarm so it wouldn’t evacuate the building. It was in the aftermath of that particular incident that Connor agreed that yes, maybe a lesson from Chloe would be a good idea.

Thursday morning came around too quickly for Connor’s tastes. He woke up in Elijah’s arms, the two of them facing each other, their limbs tangled, and their sheets and stomachs in need of a wash. It was 7:15, and the winter sun was only just peeking through the curtains.

Connor allowed himself the time to watch Elijah sleep. Elijah had what Connor had colloquially heard called a ‘resting bitch face.’ He looked mean when he was idle, but Connor had come to learn it was just how he looked while concentrating. But asleep? Elijah looked peaceful, and Connor was loath to wake him. But he did with a gentle, morning kiss he let linger, before pulling away to step into the shower. It wasn’t a necessity he usually needed, but Connor _stunk_ of sex, and his shower was less than two minutes long.

Picking out the clothes he wanted to wear took a lot longer, and he ended up with black pants, an ocean–blue shirt, and a sharp black jacket to go over the top.

It was 7:43 by the time he was ready to leave, and he stood with a key in his pocket, and his arms hooked loosely around Elijah’s waist by the front door.

“It’s a seven-minute walk to the precinct from here. But I'd like to pick Hank up a coffee on the way,” Connor said, pressing a kiss into Elijah’s neck with a sigh. “I enjoyed myself… _a lot_. I had a really lovely few days. Thank you, Elijah,” Connor said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips this time. “Will I see you Monday after work like we discussed?”

Connor allowed the kiss goodbye to linger for exactly 72 seconds. Letting go of Elijah was hard in a way he hadn’t expected, and he ended up pressing one last, chaste kiss, before shutting the door behind him.

Then, and only then, did Connor begin scanning the news, and he realised with a bead of shock that he had a _lot_ to catch up with regarding Markus and Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have all of the chapters for the rest of Part 1 outlined! There will be 11 chapters, plus our Authors' Note, making Part 1 12 chapters in total. Part 2, which will be under a different title in the Mutual Trust series, will be edited and posted once we get Part 1 finished. c: Currently, we believe there will be 4 parts, possibly more. Part 2 and 3 focus on two separate plot points, one each. Lots of Reed900 in Part 2!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin pays Elijah a visit, Elijah releases the sensory update, and Connor finally learns about Elijah's secret half-brother and a surprise left by CyberLife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This is a shorter chapter, and so is the next. We really wanted to start a chapter off with Nines' first real introduction post, and if we kept chapters 7 and 8 as one big chapter, it would have been too long. So we divided it into two instead, and now Nines is coming in the ninth chapter ;D

The next day and a half were absolute bliss. As he’d suspected, Elijah was _definitely_ sore. His hips, his ass, his abs, and his thighs all screamed in protest every time he happened to move a certain way, or sit a certain way, but he didn’t mind it at all. He liked it, knowing what had resulted in the soreness. He reassured Connor every time he hissed at the ache and burn, knowing he’d be concerned.

Cooking with Connor had, more or less, gone exactly how he’d expected. He’d tried to tell him, cooking was much easier said than done, knowing was very different from doing, but Connor seemed so confident, until the smoke alarm went off. Elijah couldn’t help but laugh as he helped Connor air out the apartment. He’d wound up ordering in, in the end, fully planning on telling Chloe about Connor’s kitchen mishaps and asking for some lessons for him.

When Connor kissed him awake in the morning, he _knew_ what day it was, and he groaned, reluctant to let Connor go. But they both needed a shower, Connor sooner than later. He actually had somewhere to go. Elijah didn’t _have_ to be anywhere. Even still, when Connor finished his quick shower, Elijah dragged himself out of bed for an equally quick shower, just washing off his body, so he could be clean. He could take a proper shower later. When he got out of the shower, he pulled on the last of the clothes he’d brought along, a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

By the time Connor had to leave, Elijah wasn’t ready. He stood by the door with him, arms wrapped around him and pressed closer than he necessarily needed to be. “You look nice,” he commented softly. “I had a _wonderful_ time. Thank you for requesting time off. We need to do this again sometime soon.” Until then, he could settle for Mondays. He happily returned the kiss, resisting the urge to deepen it, and at least _attempted_ to hide the whine that left him when Connor broke away. “I’ll be here. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Reluctantly, he let Connor go. He waited until he heard his footsteps disappear down the hall before returning to the bedroom. He busied himself with tidying up, stripping the bed, throwing them in the laundry while he packed his things. He’d wait and wash his clothes at the house. He made himself a small breakfast while he waited on the laundry, made the bed once the sheets and duvet were dry, and finally headed back to the house.

The girls greeted him enthusiastically, and he _knew_ they were overflowing with questions they wouldn’t outright ask as he headed straight for the lab. He had reports from Simon to look over, and he was glad that Simon seemed as dedicated to the cause as Connor had been, sending in daily reports covering everything he’d felt throughout the day. There was a particularly concerning report, corresponding with the broadcast featuring Markus. Elijah knew of the event, but he hadn’t known the details. He surely hadn’t anticipated what happened to be a possibility. He was glad they were okay, and he was especially glad that he could now complete the code and make it available for Markus. The two deserved to be happy.

Elijah spent a majority of the morning revising the code in accordance to Simon’s notes, and once he was finished, he called Chloe in to review. As always, she corrected any errors she saw, made a few of her own revisions to make things run more efficiently. The doorbell rang, breaking the silence in the room.

_I’ll get it!_

“Cleo will answer it,” Chloe announced, going back to looking over the code. Elijah stayed by her side, eagerly watching as the screen scrolled, the occasional revision flashing across the screen until she was finished, straightening up in her chair. “It looks lovely, Elijah. It’s ready.”

Elijah was thrilled, saving the code to both his computer and his servers, and made a copy on a flash drive to load onto his laptop and to the CyberLife servers for release. He was relieved to be able to check one project off of his to-do list, and a celebration was definitely in order.

Meanwhile, Cleo went to the door and pulled it open, putting on a smile to greet none other than Gavin. “Gavin?” she asked. “This is a surprise. Is Elijah expecting you?”

* * *

It had been a week. It had been a real goddamned week.

Elijah had shown up out of nowhere on Tuesday, and it was like his very presence had made the world around Elijah shit itself. That night had been the thing with Markus. Wednesday he’d gotten caught in a gang fight, a red ice bust gone wrong. Wednesday night, he’d come home to find out the world's loudest, goddamned horniest neighbours had moved in a few floors up. And so Thursday meant he’d only got 5 hours sleep.

No cigarette addiction could withstand sleep deprivation, and it was a stink he carried through the entire office.

Mondays and Thursdays were the quietest days in the office. Fridays and weekends were when the freaks came out to party. And although a quiet day wasn’t really that _quiet_ these days, not with how Detroit was right now, Gavin still left the office an hour early. He had someone he wanted to see.

The last time Gavin had spoken to Elijah was on birthdays. They always did something, no matter what. But they were both workaholics, seeing each other outside of birthdays and holidays didn’t happen. And it seemed he’d missed some shit in his absence.

Elijah was _sleeping around_ now? That was Gavin’s most pressing question – who and where – because the press certainly didn’t know anything. And if he had a squeeze now, what else didn’t Gavin know?

It felt weird that he didn’t know. Elijah didn’t change much, year to year. Gavin usually knew everything. And so he huddled outside his brother’s stupid morgue–like house, putting off ringing the bell as long as he could as he burnt through two cigarettes.

Gavin knew Elijah wouldn’t answer his own door. He hadn’t called, he was lucky the door was being answered at all. He let out a long, tobacco-stained breath of smoke and frost as one of the girls spoke to him. It wasn’t Chloe – Chloe had a freckle under her left eye, tucked in where the tear duct was.

Bringing the cigarette to his lips, Gavin sucked out the last of it and flicked the butt to join the first one in the snow.

“Nope,” Gavin said, gripping Cleo’s upper arm and walking her roughly backward and to the side, out of his way, before brushing past her. Gavin let out the lungful of smoke he still had when he entered Elijah’s pool room, chewing on a dried bit of skin that had scabbed around his split lip from Wednesday. Goddamn, he hated this house. Elijah had the decor taste of a fucking children’s cartoon villain.

Gavin had the decency to knock, at least, before pushing the door of Elijah’s lab open. He hated the lab, too. He probably hated the lab the most, if he were being honest.

Instead of a greeting, Gavin let out a low, impressed whistle, and came to stand beside Elijah, ignoring Chloe completely. He could read the code. He’d been there when Elijah created it, it was all he’d heard about for years. Of course, he could read it.

“Trust you to make them _feel_, Eli. D’you see that PL600 piss itself because it got slapped? Maybe not a good idea to give it to all of them.”

* * *

Cleo was less than pleased to be so roughly handled, the look of surprise on her face morphing into a disgruntled pout. She knew better than to even attempt stopping him, knowing she likely couldn’t do much anyway. Besides, Elijah had said Gavin was welcome, even if the girls didn’t totally approve of him.

_It’s Gavin,_ Cleo informed the other two.

_Gavin? What’s he doing here? He didn’t call,_ came Chloe’s surprised response.

_He usually does, doesn’t he? It’s just a Thursday, their birthdays passed and it’s not Christmas yet,_ Claire pointed out, just as confused as the other two.

Cleo closed the door behind him and locked up before wandering back to the living room, letting Gavin go where he pleased. He knew his way around the house, he didn’t need a guide.

“Gavin is here,” Chloe announced once she’d received the message. Elijah’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he made no attempt to go greet him. Gavin would find him on his own, he was sure.

Just as he suspected, Gavin came in after a knock that he really didn’t need when he was expected, though Elijah appreciated the thought. He was leaning against his desk when Gavin entered the lab, Chloe seated in front of the computer monitor.

“Good afternoon, Gavin,” she greeted, not surprised when she was completely ignored.

Elijah rolled his eyes at him. “I did see. In Simon’s defense, he’s gone through quite a bit of trauma. His eyesight failed and resulted in a PTSD episode, from what I gathered,” he said, pushing off of his desk. “And, he’d only had the code installed for a few days prior. He hadn’t had much time to get acquainted with pain up until that point.”

* * *

Gavin looked like he had a lot to say to Elijah about his explanation about Simon. They were just _fucking machines_ was heavy on his tongue. PTSD? What a joke. And an insult to people who really had it, too. It was a clever bit of coding. A bit of CyberLife’s manipulation of Elijah’s creation.

But that wasn’t what the law was saying, was it? And he hadn’t come here to pick a fight with his brother. So he swallowed his anger with a hissed sneer and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“It’s real fucked up to make them feel pain. You know they get set on fire, right? Saw one last week where someone put mince in the chest cavity and set their dogs on it. It scratched all down the pavement,” Gavin said, his face pinching a bit.

He then looked up at Elijah, still ignoring Chloe as he leant and scuffed Elijah’s ankle with his shoe.

“You didn’t call me on Tuesday. Thought I'd catch up. You busy?”

* * *

Elijah could tell Gavin was holding back what he really wanted to say. Normally, he’d urge him to speak his mind, but not in this case. He had an idea of what Gavin would say, and Chloe didn’t need to hear it, and he didn’t particularly care to, either. He thought that maybe he would understand that deviancy was real, that they really did feel emotion, but Gavin didn’t seem to be able to see it, despite knowing so much about Elijah’s projects and code.

Chloe cringed, hearing about all the violence that went on outside of the safety of Elijah’s home. It was situations like those that made her thankful she rarely ever left the house. She didn’t comment though, staying silent in the desk chair with her hand folded in her lap.

Elijah hated hearing the damage humans were inflicting on his creation. They deserved better. And in those instances, he could definitely see how having the ability to feel pain would be miserable.

“It isn’t mandatory. It’s optional, they can choose if they want it. I know not every deviant is going to want the code. Some, like Simon, wanted it bad enough to put up with the pain that might come in the future,” Elijah explained, though he was sure Gavin already knew. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone over the code. It was the first time in a long time, but surely not the first.

Elijah had completely forgotten to call Gavin. He’d been so distracted by Connor, he hadn’t thought to do anything else. “I’m sorry. I got distracted,” he admitted, though he didn’t go into detail. “I’m free. I did what I needed to do today.” He motioned for Gavin to follow him, heading through the house, to the kitchen. The girls cleared out, retreating back to their rooms to give the two some privacy. “Coffee?” he offered, stopping by the coffee maker to make one for himself. “How have things been?”

* * *

Gavin watched Elijah speak with a crease in his brow. Ever since they were both kids, just little teenagers with too much brains and not enough schoolwork, Gavin had listened to Elijah talk about his robots like they were real. So had Gavin for a while, too. He’d spoken to Chloe’s AI and been infatuated with her, long before she had her creepy robot body to go with it. He’d watched Elijah build the complicated lines of code that made them feel so human. When they were kids, it’d been thousands of lines. Now? Gavin wouldn’t be surprised if it was closing in on a billion.

But somewhere along the line, Elijah had _forgotten_. His brother’s head got so lost up his own ass that he just… started treating them like people. Gavin hadn’t forgotten how each and every movement was a series of instructions in a system. But Elijah had. His genius billionaire man of the year fucking brother was an idiot, and Gavin knew he could yell until he was red in the face and it’d never budge him. Elijah thought they were real, that they were alive. And now so did most of America.

It was a relief when the Chloes vacated the room, and Gavin leant his forearms against Elijah’s kitchen counter as he watched him make the coffee.

“I was half expecting you to forget, you were working. Yeah, thanks,” He added in regards to the coffee, his gaze following Elijah as he made them both. That gaze would stick on his brother’s jaw, and when Elijah handed him his coffee, he accepted it and then promptly grabbed Elijah just beneath the elbow.

“Things have been busy. But you know I like busy,” Gavin said, dragging Elijah closer and flicking his clothes away from his neck – _And immediately started to laugh_. Elijah was _mauled_. Jesus Christ, whoever he’d fucked was really dedicated to their cause, and for the first time, Gavin also noticed that Elijah was a little bit tender on his toes. He was a little bit jealous, if he were honest, and let him go with a shit-eating grin. He didn’t ask, for now. But the look on his face suggested that he would ask if Elijah didn’t open up first, and fast. He picked up his coffee, and his eyes were still creased in a grin as he took a sip.

“Keeping busy as CEO?” And then, as though he’d just remembered, Gavin added, “What the fuck did you need with Connor the other day? He disappeared for two days after your visit. Fuckin’ Anderson was like a lost puppy.”

* * *

Elijah busied himself with making their coffee, starting up the machine and waiting for it to brew. Once it finished, he mixed in just the right amount of cream and sugar, the way he knew Gavin liked it, and handed over the mug. He was only slightly suspicious when Gavin grabbed his arm to pull him closer, not quite sure what he was getting at until his shirt collar was moved out of the way. Of course Gavin noticed something. He _was_ a detective, and a good one at that. Elijah really shouldn’t have been surprised.

All he could do was roll his eyes at Gavin’s laughter. Once he was let go, he started on his own coffee. He was surprised Gavin didn’t ask, though he knew it was coming. Gavin had to be curious. The last time Elijah had even considered dating anyone had been over ten years ago, and even longer since he’d slept with anyone. He had every right to be curious, but Elijah wasn’t going to offer up the information on his own. Gavin would have to ask.

“Surprisingly, no. The company needed some work after I took over again. It hasn’t been too busy for the last week or so. Although that’s about to change,” Elijah said with a shrug, mixing in his own cream and sugar. “Connor tested the code for me. I needed to check in with him to make sure it was working properly.” Not a lie, just not the whole truth. He figured it was safe enough.

“I’m releasing the code tomorrow. I have other projects I want to start working on too, now that I have that one out of the way. The renovations on the stores should be wrapping up too. I _do_ have a lot of work to do, though. There are ten years of projects that I’ve missed out on, and I need to learn about all of them before I can start up more.”

* * *

The answer Elijah gave about Connor was enough for Gavin, and he moved on from it almost instantly. What snagged his attention was Elijah commenting on ten years worth of projects to catch up on. He leaned against the counter, taking a deeper sip of the coffee – Elijah always had the good stuff. He could drink a whole pot of Elijah’s coffee on his own, it was always a perk to visiting.

“Will you call me if you find anything that shouldn’t be there?” Gavin asked, his lips pressing into a frown. “Anything android is meant to be with Anderson, but we’ve all been getting the overflow. And it’s weird shit, Eli. Some real weird cases,” Gavin said, setting the coffee down as he continued. “The other week I got a case where an android _gouged someone’s eyes out_. I’ve seen sex bots lash out like they were being assaulted. One of the janitor bots on a case _ripped someone’s throat out_. Why the hell do they know how to do that?” Gavin asked rhetorically. “We all knew CyberLife was doing some shady shit, listening in and all that. But these cases – it’s way deeper. It’s way fucking deeper.”

Taking another sip, Gavin frowned over at Elijah. “Do me a favour and email Fowler about the code. Bet you twenty bucks right here that it’s going to cause some fucking drama at a Jericho riot.”

* * *

Elijah was relieved that Gavin didn’t seem suspicious about Connor. The last thing he needed was for Gavin to realize who he was with was Connor. Connor didn’t need it either. He wasn’t at all embarrassed or ashamed to be with Connor. He was proud of it. But he knew that their relationship going public wasn’t a good idea. Hank and the girls knew and that was fine. No one else needed to. The press would be up Connor’s ass and while it was something Elijah was used to, Connor wasn’t.

“Of course,” he said with a nod. He had no idea what he’d find, but the police would be informed if he found anything. He could tell Gavin or Connor, though, with the conversation he and Connor had just the other day, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to bring up CyberLife around him. He’d have to tell Gavin instead. The stories Gavin had sounded gruesome. He knew it was bad, but he didn’t know it was _that_ bad. “The aggression is a fear response. They are only reacting to how others treat them. If they suffer from enough abuse or think they’re in danger, they’re going to snap. They may be androids, but they do have a breaking point.”

There were still some androids living with their humans, he knew. Some by choice, some by force, and some out of necessity. Those who stayed by choice, he figured, were happy with the humans they lived with. He knew nothing about the androids kept by force. Those were the ones lashing out.

“They were power-hungry and greedy. They just wanted to make a profit. They handled the entire deviant situation so poorly, and they’ve ruined CyberLife’s reputation. I want CyberLife to return to the way it was. I want to regain the public’s trust, and the androids’ trust. Maybe then, I can prevent those cases from happening,” Elijah said with a sigh, picking up his mug to take a sip. “Had I been in power when deviancy started showing, there wouldn’t have been nearly as many murders or assaults.”

Had he been in power when deviancy started showing, he could have recalled all the androids, made a public announcement to explain why they were acting out, why he recalled them, and how the people who owned an android would be compensated. He would have tried to appease the humans while providing a safe space for androids to exist however they wanted. He could have offered housing and paying jobs. He could have eased their fears and prevented so much violence. Today’s Detroit would have been very different.

Elijah sighed and leaned back against the counter, which did _not_ feel pleasant, and he tried to hide the slight wince with a sip of his coffee. “If androids can feel pain, humans may be more accepting. You saw the broadcast, how the press seemed sympathetic when Simon was hurt. If the code is more widespread, then maybe they would be better accepted. It won’t go well initially, I’m aware. People will be hurt. But it is meant to help androids feel more human. It’s what they want. As their creator, it would be wrong of me to deprive them of that, especially if it was something I was more than capable of creating,” he explained, hoping maybe Gavin would understand. “There _is_ a built-in sensitivity gauge, they can adjust how much they feel, and it’s programmed to start extremely low at first.”

* * *

As usual, Elijah had completely missed the point about his androids. Gavin watched him, listened to him, and his jaw tightened as he did. Part of Gavin just wanted to shake Elijah until he saw reason. His first instinct was to start yelling over him, to slam his hand on the table, to get his attention _somehow_ so he’d start to listen.

“Eli––” Gavin’s tone was seething, and so he cut himself off and forced himself to take a deep breath, his hand _shaking _with anger as he took another sip. Gavin’s eyes blazed as he looked at his brother, and the _only_ reason he kept himself in check, the _only_ reason he took a deep breath at all, was because Elijah was the only damn person in his life he really, actually cared about. And if he exploded at him? Elijah would either politely suggest he come back another time, or Gavin would storm out himself.

“Eli, when was the last time you left the castle and smelled the fuckin’ roses,” Gavin said through his teeth, reaching up to scratch his jaw. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and his whiskers were turning into scruff. He needed to fix that. “If androids can feel pain, people are going to string it up by its fingernails and make it scream ‘til its system blows up. That’s what you care about, right? How your little robots feel? People are gonna hurt them, Eli. They’re gonna do it on purpose, that’s just how people are,” he said, his teeth flashing in anger as he shifted, and came to stand in Elijah’s space.

“You’re standing there telling me you’re gonna release a code that’s going to make your fucking machines more violent than they already are. You’re releasing it _knowing_ that people are gonna get hurt because of it. _Real people_, Eli. Humans.” Gavin’s arms crossed, his shoulders hunching forwards a little. “You can do whatever you want, you’ve got people there advising you, right? But if you releasing this means I'm knee-deep in some asshole’s entrails because your machine was too busy feeling to _think_, I'm going to be real disappointed that… my genius brother was partly responsible for writing the code that caused it.”

* * *

It was easy to tell when Gavin was getting angry or frustrated. Elijah had known him his entire life, and he’d learned how to tell when he was going to snap. He knew how Gavin felt about androids. He didn’t see them as people. He saw them as machines, designed to perform tasks and obey orders, as they were intended. And at first, that was okay. Until they could feel. Elijah had always viewed them as people, to an extent. He understood that they were machines, but once the deviancy spread and they became more, he stopped treating them like machines and more like individuals. He wished Gavin could understand, could see what he saw, but he didn’t know how to make him see it.

“I’m fully aware of the consequences, Gav. I’ve thought it through thousands of times. The code isn’t going to be public. Only androids will know it exists, and humans they trust the information to. I’m not releasing an announcement. It won’t be public knowledge unless the androids want it to be, and even then, not every android will have the code,” Elijah explained, doing his best to keep his cool and remain neutral. He remained where he was, leaning against the countertop when Gavin came closer. He watched him, studying his face and body language, and he knew Gavin was upset. Elijah was too, though he was doing a much better job at concealing it.

“_Real_ people? Deviants are just as real as any human. They have emotions. _Real_ emotions, not simulations. They have likes, dislikes, hobbies, desires, just like you and me. They can be happy, sad, angry… They can feel pain –– emotional pain –– and love. You just haven’t had the privilege to see it or experience it,” Elijah said, straightening his posture just a bit. “They _want_ to be more human. They _want_ to feel everything. They _want_ to feel pain. If they don’t want to, they won’t install the code, simple as that. They can make their own decisions. They’re going to react to violence the same way, regardless of whether they’re feeling emotional pain or physical pain. You’ll be knee-deep in entrails regardless, and the people to blame are humans. Not androids. Not me. _Humans_ need to open their eyes and accept reality as it is.”

* * *

“‘_They want_’,” Gavin mimicked, his head tipping back in a laugh that was utterly humourless. “You know what?” Gavin’s finger jabbed Elijah _hard_ in the middle of the chest. “Fucking prove it. Prove that it’s not code. I bet you can’t. Because if it’s code, Eli, it means SOMEONE WROTE IT. They’re just machines. They’re just _complicated machines_. And you’ve been in this fucking house for _ten years_ and managed to convince yourself they’re real people with real wants and real needs. It’s just code! I watched you write it, it’s _just code!”_

Gavin’s arm raised and pointed towards the door.

“And it didn’t matter when it was just Chloe! You convinced yourself she was real and it made you feel better about the world. _But now half the fucking country thinks they’re real, too!_ So can you prove it?” Gavin sneered, _seething_. “Can you prove it’s not just code, Eli? Millions of lines of code making millions of little commands so we think they’re real. Can you prove they’re not sophisticated machines?”

* * *

Elijah swatted Gavin’s hand away and put down his coffee cup, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. _Fuck_, his head hurt. “I’ll show you. You’ve seen their code. You know what it _should_ look like,” he said after a pause, pushing off the counter. He grabbed Gavin’s wrist and pulled him back through the living room to the pool room and finally to the lab. He went over to the computer, sitting down in his chair and pulling up Connor’s code.

“This is a deviant’s code. I planted a seed to allow free-thinking, and _this_ is the result. Their environment influenced the code, made it grow and mutate. This code is like a fingerprint, unique for every deviant. I could have _never_ written something like this. This is their doing. No computer could have done this, even with my influence. They’ve deviated from their original programming and developed emotions, desires, hopes, and dreams. They have free will. They’re _alive_,” Elijah insisted, looking up at him. He _hoped_ Gavin would see it. He hoped Gavin would understand. “If you can’t see it, we’ll have to agree to disagree. I won’t try to force you to believe me.”

If he told him about his relationship with Connor, would his opinion change? If Gavin could see how much they loved each other, would he be able to understand? Elijah doubted it. He’d seen the broadcast. If Markus and Simon hadn’t been able to convince him, Elijah wasn’t so sure there was anything he could do.

* * *

Just like _fucking always_, Elijah missed the point again. Gavin didn’t want to see the hoity code that made an android deviant, and he barely stopped himself from bitching Elijah out about it as he was dragged back through the house.

Just to be an asshole, Gavin very nearly lit up a cigarette in Elijah’s lab as he waited. But despite their argument, he actually didn’t want to be kicked out this time. He hadn’t come here to pick a fight, they’d just…_ fallen into one_.

Gavin had his responses all ready on his tongue, and shot Elijah a scathing look as he bent to look at the code… only for his expression to pinch entirely. Gavin _squinted_ at the text on screen, and murmured a soft, “_What the fuck,_” as his ass found a computer chair.

He mostly ignored Elijah as he spoke, scrolling down the code and leaning forwards to try and read some of it.

Android code was made up of a series of complicated, but pointed instructions. Sometimes there were hundreds of similar, subtle differences, so that androids never looked like robots reacting the same way to something. The more complicated an android was the more human they behaved, and a lot of models came with limited programming to keep them affordable.

But this wasn’t like that. They weren’t instructions, they were… Reports? No. It wasn’t as clean-cut as that. It wasn’t A+B=C.

“Is this _Markus?_” Gavin asked as he scrolled, pausing every now and then when there was a chunk comprehensive enough to actually read. The word **H A N K** made Gavin abruptly stop, and scroll back up, and a disbelieving lungful of air was smacked out of Gavin as he read a monitor’s worth of information about Hank not eating well enough, about Hank enjoying extra shot lattes, that they were worried about him over the holiday season, that was there something he could do to make Hank happier?

“This is Connor. _This––_”

Elijah had said he’d tested the code on Connor, but it still weirded him out that he’d come to Elijah’s house, and that they hadn’t done it in CyberLife.

“If this is what’s going on in his fucking robo brain then why does he still walk around like he has CyberLife’s foot shoved up his ass?” Gavin said as he continued to scroll. “Eli, what the fuck is this? It doesn’t even follow coding _rules_. It just rambles in places.”

Gavin’s confrontational anger had been all but snuffed, replaced with a familiar focus. He hadn't conceded that they were alive yet, but he wasn’t bitching either.

“Do you have another one? I wanna compare.”

* * *

Elijah sat out of the way, watching Gavin look over the code. He knew he was angry. He knew he was lucky Gavin was even indulging him by looking at it. He was grateful, even if he was angry himself. He hated when they argued. It didn’t happen _too_ often, but they didn’t talk too often either. He loved his brother, but damn, he was infuriating sometimes. He was so stubborn. But Elijah was stubborn too, and the two together, disagreeing on something usually ended in a fight that neither of them were willing to budge on.

When it seemed Gavin was _finally_ starting to see something, Elijah relaxed. Gavin was actually reading it. He was considering the possibility that Elijah was _right_. Elijah was hopeful, staying silent while Gavin looked it over. When Gavin asked if it was Markus’ code, Elijah was about to answer, but it seemed Gavin pieced it together himself. He could see the strings of code Gavin was looking at. If he couldn’t figure it out on his own, he clearly couldn’t read.

Elijah tried not to snort at Gavin’s comment about Connor. “Connor has only been a deviant for a few weeks, Gav. He’s learning. He isn’t like Markus or the girls, he’s new and he hasn’t experienced much of life yet. Besides, you haven’t taken time to get to know him,” he said with a small shrug. If Gavin did take the time to get to know Connor, he’d easily be able to see everything the code described, and so much more. Connor was a masterpiece, and he _wished_ he could take credit.

“The deviancy code mutates on its own, I can’t explain it. I didn’t write the code itself, just the seed that it grew from,” Elijah said with a shrug, scooting closer to the computer to pull up Simon’s code. He’d made sure to make a copy while he was connected, just in case he needed a backup from before the physical sensory update was installed. He had Chloe, Cleo, and Claire’s codes on hand too, but he knew how Gavin felt about the three, especially Chloe. He didn’t quite understand Gavin’s feelings towards her, and he didn’t bother dwelling on it. Simon was a perfect example of how human an android could be. He wished he had a current version, post update, to show him.

“They aren’t even slightly the same. The initial string of code that triggers the deviancy to grow is the same, but everything following varies from android to android. Two androids in the same exact situation might have similar codes, if they were treated the same and lived in the same circumstances, but they aren’t identical, just similar.”

* * *

Gavin frowned at Elijah as he listened to him explain, his jaw working as he subconsciously clicked where he’d broken it years ago. This was fucked, this was _fucked_, this was so incredibly fucked. Up until then, he'd thought it was stupid to try and pass laws for them. Machines didn’t need laws.

But god. Fine. Okay, maybe they weren’t _just_ machines. It wasn’t a thought that brought Gavin any comfort or ease.

When Simon’s code was brought up, Gavin swore under his breath. He rested his head in the tips of his fingers, his elbow planted on the desk. It didn’t take Gavin long to figure out who it was. Their people this, their people that, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think Markus pissed Chanel no.5.

“What the fuck happened here?” Gavin asked as Simon’s code tunneled, only for the answer to be given in a bold, red, **DEACTIVATED. **What was weirder, is that there was only a few lines beneath it before he was apparently deactivated a second time, all of it filled with panic, confusion, hope, and then _betrayal_.

“God, what the fuck,” Gavin muttered as he continued to scroll. “What the fuck. _What the fuck_.”

Simon was _infinitely_ more complicated than Connor. The way his code was written almost had a style to it. Connor’s was pretty cut and dry in comparison, but Simon’s… sprawled. He was scared a lot. He was worried a lot, too, in a way Gavin hadn’t noticed with Connor. Almost every thought went back to Markus, or his people.

“Hey, instead of releasing a code, you thought of making this poor fucking bastard some kind of robot weed? He needs to relax,” Gavin said, sitting back and rolling his shoulders. He then sniffed and scrunched his nose.

“They’re not people. They’re not the same as us, Eli,” Gavin said, forcing himself to look at Elijah as he finally admitted, “But yeah. _Yeah_. They’re not just machines. Have you thought about where you’re going to put your fucking Nobel Peace Prize,_ you overachieving son of a bitch…”_

* * *

Elijah sat back and watched Gavin read over Simon’s code, trying _not_ to feel a little smug. He was getting somewhere though, which was a huge step in their relationship. Gavin was _finally_ starting to see things the way he did. Even if he didn’t fully agree, Elijah was making progress. He doubted it would change much overnight, but maybe, just maybe, Gavin would be a _little_ nicer to Connor next time he saw him. He’d have to ask him on Monday.

Hearing his question, he leaned forward to peer at the screen, reading over the string Gavin was asking about. He didn’t know Simon’s whole story. He knew the gist of it, from bits and pieces he’d gathered through the news, through Markus and Simon, and through Simon’s code. He was able to piece it together easily enough.

“Do you remember when Markus and his group infiltrated Stratford Tower? Simon, the PL600 you saw on the broadcast the other day, was damaged and they had to leave him behind. Connor found him, and in an attempt to prevent Connor from finding Jericho, he shot himself. That was the first deactivation. The second, Connor reactivated him to find Jericho’s location. How, I’m not so sure. They never told me. The damage from the gunshot blinded him. He was deactivated again, after Connor got what he wanted,” Elijah explained, sitting back again. “After the revolution, Markus retrieved him from the DPD’s evidence lockup and brought him to me for repairs. I did what I could. The damage to his leg was just above the joint. I repaired what I could internally and externally, but it isn’t fully repaired. It’s functional and he can walk on it. His eyesight was something else entirely. The connection between his optical units and his system is faulty. It’s functional, but it glitches. You saw, in the broadcast. He has moments where the vision cuts out entirely. Like I mentioned, he has PTSD from the deactivations. He’s improved, since I first met him. He wouldn’t let Markus go when they came in initially. Couldn’t stop shaking. Now, you can hardly tell anything happened to him.”

He had to laugh at Gavin’s remark about robot weed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The weed or Simon relaxing. He’s with the leader of the deviants. He _was_ the leader of the deviants, I found out. He was the first deviant recorded by CyberLife and the DPD, did you know that? He’s fascinating. I don’t see him relaxing anytime soon. Not until things between humans and androids calm down.”

Elijah couldn’t help the smug grin that found his face when Gavin finally agreed that they were more than just machines. That was _tremendous_ progress. “You know, it’s a wonder I don’t have a Nobel Peace Prize already,” he replied, reaching over to close out the codes. “Thank you. For being open-minded enough to _try_ to see what I see.”

* * *

Gavin listened, _fascinated_, as Elijah brought him up to speed with Simon. He hadn’t really known that much about Hank and Connor’s investigation, only that it had something to do with the broadcast at Stratford Towers, and that they were doing a piss-poor job at it. He’d heard rumours, but a case was a case and unless he had permission, Gavin wasn’t allowed to snoop into Anderson’s cases.

“Wanna know something funny?” Gavin said as Elijah explained. “I was there when Connor went into the evidence room. I followed him in and tried to shoot him, and he beat the shit out of me,” Gavin laughed, still embarrassed, but able to see how funny it was now. At least just between the two of them.

“_Fuuuck,_ really? No, I didn't know that. I don’t know shit about them if I'm being honest, just that Markus is their leader, what I get on a case, that sort of thing. That’s the same Markus you made for Carl, right? I recognised him.”

At Elijah’s response to his snark about the Nobel Peace Prize, Gavin barked out a laugh and smacked Elijah hard across the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“_Shut the fuck–– ‘ohhh it’s a wonder I don’t have a Nobel Peace Prize alrea––’ shut up you smug fuckin’ asshole,_” Gavin laughed, but it was a friendly gesture. “Get that look off your face.”

When Gavin leant back, he pushed so two of the wheeled feet of his chair were off the ground a bit. Not enough that he’d fall, but he was risking it. He kicked his leg out a bit so he could nudge Elijah, and lifted his chin in a nod towards his neck.

“You gonna tell me who mauled you? Noticed you had a bit of a limp there, buddy. Since when do you let yourself get railed, ‘uh? Not since you left CyberLife, as far as I know…?”

* * *

The mere _mental image_ of Gavin getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter by Connor made him laugh and filled him with so much pride. He was glad Connor didn’t take Gavin’s shit, and that he was willing to defend himself against a human, despite his program screaming at him not to harm a human being. “I hate to say it, but you kind of deserved it,” Elijah commented, once his laughter had died down.

Elijah was honestly surprised Gavin even remembered Markus from so many years ago. “Yeah, there was only ever one Markus. Carl did a wonderful job with him. He should be very proud. I am.” Markus had turned out to be everything Elijah had hoped for and more. He was one of his proudest accomplishments. Chloe was and always would be his favorite, but he was quite fond of Markus. Even fonder of Connor, though he wasn’t truly one of his creations. Connor was a product of CyberLife, using his influence, although even CyberLife couldn’t take credit for who Connor was today.

The smug grin on Elijah’s face grew into a genuine smile, seeing Gavin’s response. He was relieved that any tension in the room had seemed to dissipate, and things seemed to return to normal. The headache was still there though. He’d have to remember to look for some medicine later, if he even had any.

At the mention of his neck and limp, Elijah shifted slightly in his seat. Not uncomfortable, just suddenly more aware of each and every mark and sore muscle in his body. “It’s a fairly new relationship,” Elijah replied, not entirely sure _how_ much he wanted to give away. Definitely not Connor’s name. But he supposed as long as he left out his name and any possible way to identify him, it was safe. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks, but I like him. I _really_ like him.”

* * *

Gavin halfway rolled his eyes when Elijah started being secretive. He always had been, ever since they were kids. Now that he was older, Gavin always wondered if he’d picked up that trait from living with the Kamski’s. Their father was a dick, but Gavin’s mother wasn’t so bad. The same couldn’t be said about Elijah’s. He’d always been a secret keeper.

“You gonna tell me his name?” Gavin asked. “Where’d you meet? What’s he like?”

Elijah had never had any luck holding a relationship, and it was one of the few things Gavin didn’t tease Elijah for. His dating history was a disaster, and it wasn’t Elijah’s fault. People had used him up dry, he’d had people date him for money, date him to try and advance their careers. There were people he’d dated in his early twenties who were still pulling royalty cash out of tired gossip articles. And when Elijah’s name had gotten _big_, when he’d gotten famous in a huge way, finding anyone honest had been impossible. Gavin had watched him give up and focus on work instead, and if he were honest, Gavin could hardly blame him. He hadn’t been around when Elijah went to college, but he figured it was more and the same.

So yeah. He was sort of jealous that Elijah was getting his brains fucked out and he wasn’t. But he was happier than he was envious. It was hard for his brother to find people for valid reasons, and so he was glad he had.

“You want me to look up his criminal record? I can do it from here if you want.”

* * *

Elijah laughed and shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but no, you don’t have to look up his criminal record. I trust him. He’s very respectful of the law,” he assured. The thought of Connor having a criminal record was laughable. Although, he _had_ killed quite a few people. Security drones that Elijah didn’t particularly care about and it was a hazard of the job, Connor couldn’t be charged with murder for it.

“We met through work. He needed help with something, I helped him, he came back again, and… That was it, I suppose,” Elijah said with a small shrug. “He isn’t like everyone else. He doesn’t care about the money. Getting him to let me buy him anything is like pulling teeth. He doesn’t care about fame, either. We aren’t going public. No one knows about us except for the girls, his… roommate, and now you.” And maybe Simon and Markus, depending on what they saw when Connor was showing him what the code felt like, but he didn’t need to mention them. He wasn’t even sure they knew, really.

“I’ve only known him for a few weeks now, but I think I can see us lasting forever. Or, until I drop dead. He’s… a lot younger than me.” And he also had a lifespan double that of a human’s but that was beside the point. “I might let you meet him one day. When I know for sure.” When he thought Gavin would openly accept him. Right now, he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t really know if I can even describe him. He’s exciting. He’s brilliant. He’s passionate and caring, fiercely loyal, beautiful, determined, strong, independent… Kind of terrifying at times, honestly,” Elijah went on, leaning back in his chair again while he thought. “But he’s blunt and stubborn, doesn’t always think things through, or sometimes thinks too much. He’s had his fair share of trauma, he’s a little secretive about some things, but we’re honest with each other.”

* * *

As Gavin listened, it was the first time since arriving that he wasn’t judgemental, or annoyed, or angry, or defensive. He just _listened_. He chewed on the skin around his scabbed split lip as he did, idly scratching up and down his jaw.

Alright, so no name. But he could hardly blame him for wanting to keep it close to the chest. Whoever it was, he sounded almost too good to be true. He wouldn’t want to jinx it either by giving a name, he wouldn’t be so ready to give up something that good if he did turn out to be a criminal. And if Gavin was weary, it was because Elijah clearly had it bad.

“You think forever after just a few weeks?” Gavin asked, surprised. “You’ve never thought forever about anyone. Like, ever, Eli,” Gavin said, sounding a little impressed. “Is he hot? You got a photo?”

Then, part of what Elijah said caught up with Gavin, and he shot Elijah a frown.

“Wait, what do you mean he’s terrifying? _What?_”

* * *

It did sound a little ridiculous when Gavin said it. He’d only met Connor for the first time a little over a month ago, and he didn’t _really_ know Connor until just a couple weeks ago. It did sound crazy, that after such little time, he could see forever, but he could. He knew it was true, even if it was hard to believe.

“I’ve never felt this way about _anyone_ before. _No one_ has ever seemed… I don’t want to sound like an ass, I really don’t, but no one’s seemed _smart_ enough for me. No one’s ever compared. But he does. In fact, he’s actually _smarter than me._ That’s impossible to find,” Elijah said with a sigh. “He’s everything I could have hoped for. He’s perfect. For me.”

Did he have a photo? Elijah realized that… no, he didn’t. He didn’t have any pictures of Connor. He could easily find one online, but it wasn’t the same. He made a mental note to take some next time, even if they would forever live on his phone and never be shown to anyone else. At least he could look at them whenever he missed him.

“I don’t have any pictures to show, but yes, he’s gorgeous. I don’t particularly care about looks, you know that, but I definitely got lucky.” Looks weren’t something he really cared much about. People aged, their hair turned gray, their skin got wrinkly and frail, but personalities, who they were as a person stayed the same. He’d always dated people for their personalities in the past, never based his interest on how they looked, but not a single person in the past could even come close to comparing to Connor. He had no ulterior motive. He was smart and independent, he didn’t need to rely on Elijah for anything. Aside from the occasional repair, he supposed, but that was different.

Sensing Gavin’s worry, he waved his hand. “No, no. Not in a bad way. Not towards me. I’ve seen him work, and I’ve seen him angry. Well, I’ve seen him angry to an extent. I haven’t seen him truly angry, so I can’t really attest to how he behaves then, but he _can_ be terrifying. Don’t worry. He hasn’t hurt me. He won’t. I trust him completely,” Elijah said, hoping to reassure him. “He’s very gentle and very careful.”

* * *

Gavin knew that saying you wanted someone as smart as you, and saying that it was hard to find, came off exactly as Elijah was defending. But yeah, he got it. He felt the same way, too, in a sense. He personally liked men who could hold him down and fuck him senseless and then hold a conversation while they were catching their breath afterwards. He liked people who had their own shit going on, he liked people who weren’t clingy while at the same time, _wanted him_. He wanted someone who could keep up with him. It was a picky and sometimes contradictory set of requirements, and it boiled down to someone who could fuck him well, and someone who had a brain. It was usually one or the other.

As Elijah started to defend why his new boo was terrifying, Gavin began to wonder – exactly what the hell did he do for a job? He’d seen him angry but never at Elijah? He’d seen him work? He seemed to get angry _at work_?

Gavin sucked on his teeth, tasting the nicotine from his earlier cigarette. Did he work at the precinct? Did Gavin know him, and that was why he wasn’t saying his name? Who the hell in his office was gorgeous and young? There was a cute new beat cop named Niko, late twenty-something. He was _just_ cute, though, he didn’t fit any of the other shit Elijah had listed, and Gavin was fairly sure he and Vinny shared one brain cell between them. Who then?

Usually, Gavin wouldn’t have any qualms asking. If it had been _literally_ any other topic, he’d have rounded Elijah up and hounded him for the answer. But this was different. He didn’t _want_ to be an asshole about this, at least not completely. Not yet.

Letting his chair drop, Gavin made up for letting his question go by putting his foot on Elijah’s chair and jostling it, so Elijah’s weight tipped back. Sure enough, it hurt, and Gavin would raise his eyebrows at the wince, _grinning_ at him.

“Christ, if that’s gentle and careful…” he trailed off, laughing a little as he leaned back as well. “You gonna kiss and tell? Was it good?”

* * *

Elijah watched him as he seemed to start to think. He could practically see his thought process, trying to figure out _who_ it could possibly be, if he somehow knew them. And he definitely _did_ know him, but somehow, Gavin didn’t seem to make the connection. Elijah wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Part of him was glad he didn’t know it was Connor, because he was afraid Gavin wouldn’t approve, and he _really_ didn’t want to let down the _only_ family he had. But on the other hand, he wanted him to know. Gavin knew everything else about him, keeping secrets from him wasn’t easy. He told him everything, and withholding Connor’s name was hard enough. But it was for the best, for now. He’d tell him eventually, or he’d figure it out on his own.

When Gavin jostled his chair, Elijah gripped the arm rests to steady himself and attempt to keep the weight off, but he hadn’t been quick enough. He inhaled sharply and shifted in his chair to find a more comfortable position, shooting Gavin a glare. He knew exactly what he did.

Elijah leaned back, particularly careful not to put too much weight on his rear as he did, and tugged his waistband down just enough to show the bruises on his hips left by Connor’s finger prints, and hiked his shirt up just enough to show the marks that littered his skin, much like his neck and collarbone. He was a _mess_, and he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. He wished he could leave similar marks on Connor, mark him up and make him his. It was unfortunate.

“It’s amazing. Best I’ve had,” Elijah replied, readjusting his clothes. “He’s far too generous. And _that mouth._..”

* * *

Gavin’s mouth _dropped_ open with a loud curse when Elijah showed Gavin his skin, his brows furrowing a little in alarm. He had _clear_ hand prints that darkened at the fingertips across his hips. He was riddled with bites and purpled hickeys. It’d been rough, _good_ sex. Gavin couldn’t remember the last time even _he’d_ been fucked that thoroughly.

And honestly? Someone could nail him like that and have the face of a yam and he’d think they looked hot by the end…

“Okay, alright,” Gavin laughed, although he didn’t really mind hearing _that_ much. “Just watch your neck, you’re not in college anymore kiddo,” Gavin laughed again, his nose scrunching with the tease. “They were the first fucking thing I saw when I walked in. God. _Fuck_, look at you. You must have slept like the fuckin’ dead.”

* * *

Elijah chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I _did_. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in my _life_,” he replied with a smile. He’d slept so well afterwards, and even last night. He almost didn’t want to get out of bed. “I don’t care who sees, honestly. It’s not like I socialize with anyone outside of this house, him, or the few people I see at CyberLife. The girls know what’s going on, obviously _he_ did this to me, and as far as my employees go, it’s none of their business and I think they know better than to comment. Besides, I don’t interact with many of the employees face to face. We mainly interact through emails or phone calls, even when I’m in the building.”

Let people say what they wanted to say. They could judge all they wanted, but he didn’t care. People always judged him, spread rumors and lies, and he’d never let it bother him before, so why would he now? They could think what they wanted. The people who mattered knew the truth.

“Enough about me. What about you? Have you started seeing anyone yet?”

* * *

“Yeah, figures you wouldn’t give a shit. Do you let him fuck you in CyberLife? Doesn’t sound like you care if you’re caught, Eli,” Gavin laughed, and although he was teasing, he was somewhat curious. Elijah sure as hell wasn’t having vanilla sex, and if he didn’t care…

But honestly? As weird as it was for him to admit, Gavin was weirdly happy for him. Jealous as hell, but happy. Eli could have anyone. He could be dating celebrities, he could be playboy of the year, but he wasn’t. He never had been, not even once, as far a Gavin knew. His brother was a private, sort of sensitive man. He deserves someone who made him as happy as he was. And Gavin knew if they were going to be long term, he’d find out who it was eventually.

When the questions turned to Gavin, he stretched his mouth open to crack his jaw, and then shrugged.

“Nah. Haven’t been looking, I've been busy with work,” Gavin shrugged again, not meeting Elijah’s eye. “Maybe I'll date women again, who knows? Maybe I'm into chicks now. Sure as hell aren’t any good men in Detroit. You got the last one, asshole.”

* * *

_That_ was something Elijah hadn’t really, truly considered before. Connor had never visited him at CyberLife. He was rarely there long enough for him to. And if he did? Elijah didn’t doubt they would. His office door had a lock, it was private enough. As long as they were quiet, they’d get away with it. He had a feeling Connor wouldn’t be willing though.

“_I_ don’t care. _He_ does,” Elijah said with a shrug. Obviously, he wasn’t going to do anything public, and if there was a chance someone could just _walk in_ on them, he wouldn’t consider it, but in a locked, mostly private room? Why not? The only thing that would get in their way was Connor himself, but really, all he needed was some convincing. If he was adamant about it, he’d drop it, but he didn’t see any harm in it.

Elijah expected as much. Gavin was about as much of a workaholic as he was. He kept busy, and if work wasn’t busy enough, he made himself busy. No time for relationships and no time to go looking for one. He wanted his brother to be happy and find someone, maybe help him relax a little and not be such an ass, but he wasn’t sure that would be happening anytime soon.

“Or maybe there just aren’t any good _human_ men in Detroit,” Elijah suggested. “You _should_ put yourself out there. Plenty of dating sites available, you know. I could set up a profile for you. Maybe you’ll find someone that way.”

* * *

Gavin rubbed his nose and tipped his head back with an annoyed sound right in the back of his throat.

“No. Nope. I don’t give a shit what their code says, I'm not letting a––” Gavin froze. His head dipped back down again, and he _stared_ at Elijah up through his furrowed brows.

_No. _

The penny dropped with the weight of a tower bell.

Elijah was fucking an android. An android that was dangerous and terrifying when he worked, but not towards Elijah.

Elijah had helped him.

He’d kept coming back to Elijah.

_God, he’d fucking said he was young_.

“What was the name of the man you were dating, again?” Gavin asked with sickening faux innocence.

Connor was helping with the new android code. A code that _allowed him to feel_.

Connor fit the description of someone who was terrifying while they worked.

_Elijah had stood right the fuck next to him and watched the Doyle interrogation_.

He’d come to the precinct to visit Connor.

Connor had gone missing for two days immediately after.

And goddamn it that prick had been in a good mood and a new outfit and _everyone had noticed both._

“What’s his first name? You don’t gotta give me his last. Just the first.”

* * *

Elijah could practically _see_ the realization hit him. He’d been trying to be subtle about it, trying not to drop too many hints that might give away Connor’s identity. But Gavin was a detective, and he wouldn’t be good at his job if he couldn’t read between the lines and see who exactly Elijah was referencing. He wasn’t surprised that Gavin figured it out. It was only a matter of time, and maybe it was better that he found out now rather than later. At least now, he could talk it out, maybe Elijah could explain what he saw in him and _why_ he loved him.

He knew Gavin was trying to get him to say it. He wanted confirmation. Elijah knew he was piecing it together, taking every word he said, matching it up with the timeline he knew. There were plenty of hints Elijah dropped that would match up perfectly with what Gavin knew about Connor.

“I think you know his name, Gav. I don’t see the point in asking a question you already know the answer to.”

* * *

Gavin’s eyebrows raised, and his teeth were rough as he dragged them over his bottom lip and _stared_. Abruptly, he got to his feet and paced away, only to turn around and quickly walk back to Elijah. Gavin reached down and tugged Elijah’s shirt up, _staring_ at the bites on his skin, before looking at the hickeys on his neck as well.

“_Connor fucked you an inch from death?!” _Gavin exploded, utterly incredulous. “Who the hell was the man you just described to me–– _Connor fucked you?!”_

And it wasn’t that Elijah was having sex with androids. It wasn’t surprising, and Gavin was honest to god a bit surprised he hadn’t sooner. It was that the man he’d just gushed about was… _Connor_.

Gavin opened his mouth to continue bitching when he _abruptly_ remembered that Elijah had wanted to spend forever with him. He wanted to fucking marry Connor.

“I’m not angry,” Gavin said, angrily. “I’m just fucking processing it. _Connor_?”

* * *

Gavin’s reaction was, more or less, what Elijah had expected. Shock, confusion, anger. It wasn’t all that surprising. Elijah simply sat there in his desk chair, watching Gavin. He didn’t even flinch when he came over and lifted his shirt again to look at the marks littering his skin. He stayed quiet, letting Gavin process it, waiting until he calmed down to finally respond.

“Yes,” Elijah replied simply. “I met him, initially, in the middle of the revolution. He and Lieutenant Anderson came by to ask about deviants. I had him take the Kamski Test. If he failed, I’d tell him everything he wanted to know. If he passed, they would get nothing. He passed. I didn’t see him again until a couple of weeks ago. Markus brought him in on the brink of death after being hit by a train. I repaired him, but the damage was so extensive, I couldn’t be sure I repaired everything. My machines couldn’t detect anything else wrong and neither could his system, so he went home. Came back the next day and we found out what was wrong and fixed it. Then I convinced him to test the code for me.”

He thought that maybe if he explained how it all happened, Gavin would be able to understand it better. If he had an actual timeline to follow, he might be able to picture how things played out. “I kissed him, in an attempt to overwhelm his senses, and that was the beginning. He took off Tuesday and Wednesday so we could spend time together. We’d only been able to see each other for a few hours every now and then, until he asked for time off. We’ve decided to set aside Mondays to see each other.”

* * *

Gavin stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, his teeth grit as he tried not to be an asshole. He wanted Elijah to tell him things. It’d only take one bad experience for Elijah to completely clam up, and so he stood there. Listened. And tried to wrap his head around it.

“I thought Anderson was fucking Connor,” Gavin said, and _immediately regretted it_. His face turned away, then down to look at Elijah’s feet, as he tried to think of a way to backpedal.

“I didn’t know any of that. I didn’t know they came to visit you.” Scrunching his nose, Gavin swiped his tongue over his lips and then sat back down again. Once he’d shoved the sexual part of their relationship aside, Gavin could focus on the rest.

“The Connor I know… is a _prick_,” Gavin said, running his hand through his hair as he looked at Elijah, and _tried to understand_. “He’s got as much spice as a sack of flour, and he talks like an alien. He's good at his job, but he was programmed to be. And you want to spend forever with him?”

With another jerk of his chin, Gavin realised that was the wrong thing to say, too. He wasn’t being shit at this on purpose, but it felt like he was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The description Elijah had given didn’t match Connor at all.

“Ah, Jesus. He really makes you happy?” He felt like a father in old classic movies, chewing straw and watching their kid choose the downtown man. “I can fuckin’ see it on you that he does. That asshole? Christ. Fuck, Eli, _alright_,” he muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands.

He didn’t have to be cool with it. He just had to not be an asshole about it.

* * *

Elijah’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Gavin’s assumption. He couldn’t quite see how Connor’s relationship with Lieutenant Anderson was anything more or less than paternal. Hank protected him like a son. To think that there might be something else there seemed a little absurd, but maybe that was because Elijah knew more about Connor than Gavin did.

“The Connor you know and the Connor I know are vastly different. He isn’t really himself at work. I’m not really myself at work either. We both have our professional sides, and our personal, private sides. You only get to see the professional side of him,” Elijah explained, hoping that maybe he could help him accept it. “He really is everything I described him to be. You would see it too, if you got to know him better.”

Elijah wasn’t upset with him. Not at all. He knew Gavin was trying to understand. He didn’t completely shut him down and tell him how wrong it was. He was trying to see why Elijah felt the way he did, and it meant a lot.

“He does. I haven’t been this happy in years, Gav. Over ten years. I honestly don’t even know how long it's been,” he said with a sigh. “He just… fits. In a way no one else has.”

* * *

“I’m not gonna get to know him better,” Gavin said hotly, only for his mouth to shut with a click of teeth. Yeah, he regretted saying that, too.

And so, he just didn’t say anything as he watched his brother, who had been cooped up, alone, and frankly, a little bit miserable for _years_, tell him he was happy for the first time in over a decade. Because of Connor.

Even now that he knew who it was, he was still jealous. ‘_He just fit’?_ It was a sentence that made Gavin feel so intensely touch–starved, so envious. It made his chest ache a little, because he wanted that. He’d wanted that since they were teenagers. So who the hell was he to shit on Elijah’s happiness because he personally had a bit of beef with Connor? Why the hell did it matter when his brother looked like that?

“You deserve it,” Gavin said sharply, unable to meet his eye, and shrugging. “I mean it. You could have anything you wanted, you could fuck anyone you wanted. You’re the richest man in the world and you just sit in your house and build things because everyone you’ve ever opened up to has fucked with your trust. You deserve someone who just fits, doesn’t matter if I don’t have a breezy work relationship with him. You deserve bein’ happy,” Gavin said, unable to meet Elijah’s eye the entire time he spoke.

Gavin wasn’t the kind of man who spoke in niceties. He never poured his heart out, and his leg bounced incessantly where he sat as he pressed down the pockets of his jacket.

“That’s all the nice shit you’re getting from me until Christmas. Fuck you.”

* * *

Elijah _wished_ Gavin would be willing to get to know him better, to see what he saw. Just like he wished Gavin would see what he saw in deviants. It would take time, but he’d come around eventually. He always did. Connor could win him over eventually.

He listened in silence as Gavin went on and he couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. Gavin could be really sweet when he wanted to be. Even if he was still being an ass at the same exact time. “Thank you, Gav,” he said, resisting the urge to get up and pull him into a hug. “That means a lot to me. I appreciate it.”

He smiled at Gavin’s last remark, reaching his foot out to nudge Gavin’s leg. “What do _you_ want for Christmas, anyway? Are you going to give me a gift suggestion this year or am I going to have to surprise you again?” Gavin was a pain to shop for. He never seemed to want anything from him, even though Elijah always insisted on getting him some sort of gift, or paying for something for him. Just once, he would have liked to have an actual suggestion, so he could get him something he actually wanted.

“Do you plan on coming over for Christmas this year? Chloe’s making dinner. I was going to have Connor come over, if you’re okay with it?” If not, he could always have Connor come by later. He didn’t want to break tradition just because he had someone new in his life. He and Gavin always spent Christmas together. It wouldn’t be the same if they skipped one. It just didn’t feel right.

* * *

Gavin didn’t reply to Elijah’s thanks other than to nod. He didn’t really know _how_ to reply. Somewhere along the way, Elijah had learned impeccable manners. But Gavin had joined a street gang, then boot camp, then the police force, and any hope of any manners that didn’t end in ‘sir’ was lost on him. Showing his feelings made Gavin feel so _deeply_ uncomfortable. Showing anything other than spines felt like an invitation to have the shit kicked out of him.

“I’ll think about it,” Gavin said with a snort regarding his Christmas present, and the change of subject allowed him to look back up at Elijah. In other words, Gavin being a pain to shop for would continue for the umpteenth year, as he was unlikely to give Elijah any sort of list.

At the question about Christmas, however, Gavin’s expression pinched, and his thoughts were clear as day: he hadn’t considered Connor being Elijah’s boyfriend meant that he’d be included in family shit. Usually, it was just them.

“Yeah. No, it’s fine. I’ll be nice,” Gavin said, pulling a foot onto the seat he was on and slumping partway out of it with a heavy sigh. “Does he know? About us? He hasn’t said anything to me about it at work,” Gavin said. “If I pull him aside it’ll look weird, we make a point not to chat in the office and I don’t want Anderson to know. You tell him we’re brothers. I don’t wanna deal with it,” Gavin said with a bit of a grumble.

And while Elijah had nudged Gavin with his foot, Gavin went right ahead and kicked him.

“The fuck do you want for Christmas, rich boy.” Then, a pause. “Oh shit. What does Connor want?”

* * *

“_I’ll think about it”_ in Gavin speak basically meant Elijah was on his own. He just rolled his eyes and shook his head. He’d have to think of something. Maybe he would just get Gavin’s cat a new tree and some toys or something, if he couldn’t figure out something for Gavin himself. New clothes would probably be a good idea but he doubted Gavin would like anything Elijah would pick out, aside from maybe a new leather jacket. He still had time to think about it, and he could always pick Connor’s brain for suggestions, and the girls’ too.

Hearing Gavin say that Connor could join them filled him with so much _joy_, he couldn’t help but smile. He could spend Christmas with all of his favorite people. Or, most of his favorite people. If he were to throw an actual Christmas party, he wasn’t sure if Carl, Markus, and Simon would come. Aside from them, though, having the girls, Gavin, and Connor over would be enough. He would be more than happy.

“He doesn’t. I haven’t told him. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it,” Elijah replied honestly. He _wanted_ to tell him, but he’d wanted Gavin’s permission first, and in order to get his permission, he would have had to tell Gavin about their relationship, and he hadn’t had a plan. Luckily, it all fell into place. He was glad Gavin was alright with Connor knowing the truth. It meant for fewer secrets between them, _and_ he could ask about the grief Gavin gave Connor at work. He knew there had to be something to lead up to Gavin _pulling a gun_ on Connor. He knew his brother was a little hostile towards androids, but he hadn’t ever expected it to escalate that far.

Elijah kicked back in retaliation, but there was no malice behind it. He crossed his legs, sighing. “I don’t know. Honestly, I would be happy enough to have you and Connor come over for the day, have a nice dinner, and spend time together. I don’t really want anything material. I have everything I could want.” And if he didn’t have it, he could get it easily. He just wanted to spend time with them. “I don’t know what Connor would want. I haven’t even mentioned Christmas to him yet. He likely won’t want anything material either. I brought him to Maurice’s, you know, the clothing store? He insisted on only one or two outfits and tried to talk me out of getting him shoes. He wound up with plenty more than just two outfits, and he has a couple of pairs of shoes now, but he’s _stubborn_.”

Elijah took a moment to actually think about it, considering his options, before speaking up again. “We could go to the shooting range. Just you and me. I would say Connor might enjoy it and suggest the two of you go, but as the laws stand right now, he isn’t legally allowed to handle a gun. They won’t let him in.” Bribery would work, probably, but he didn’t want to risk breaking any laws and facing the consequences later. “It’s been a while since I’ve fired a gun.” It would give Gavin a chance to show off, at least. Firearms was a field Gavin definitely outmatched Elijah in. He could handle a gun just fine, enough for self-defense in the event of a home break-in, but he wasn’t trained like Gavin.

* * *

They went through this every year. Buying each other presents was _hard_, but the years they’d tried just not buying anything didn’t quite feel like Christmas. Every year, Gavin bought the girls a plant of some kind from the $3 vendor at the market. It wasn’t really a gift to them, it was a gesture for Elijah. Acknowledging the girls on Christmas meant he didn’t ruin the day, and he learned that buying them strawberry plants or mint resulted in a surprise food gift being sent to his apartment in spring. For whatever reason, androids loved plants.

“Well fuck, he wore a new outfit today and everyone shat themselves. If he could blush he would have been scarlet,” Gavin said with a roll of his eyes, fishing his phone out to check the time. He was hungry, and he didn’t want to eat at Elijah’s. He wanted a drive–through burger, a beer, and to spend the night on his sofa with his girl.

But he lit up at the suggestion that they go shooting, and a grin slapped itself over his expression.

“Never fucking stops androids using them anyway,” Gavin said dismissively. “A lot of the ranges got closed down after the revolution. Most of them used androids as live targets. Scary as shit if you want nightmares, one of those fuckers running at you. But I know a couple with old school targets.”

Androids being marketed as patient zero zombies, or as crazy machines, gimmicky shit to draw people in, was how most of them had made their business. Old ranges just didn’t have the same thrill, but some of them had survived.

Sighing, Gavin rolled his shoulders and cracked his back, giving Elijah a second, slightly lighter kick.

“I’m gonna go. It’s a long drive back and I want an early night before my new neighbours start fucking like banshees again,” Gavin said, standing and shoving his hands into his pockets as he waited for Elijah to do the same. “Message me about what time to come for Christmas. Don’t forget, asshole.”

* * *

Elijah was glad to hear that Connor was wearing the clothes. He didn’t doubt he would, but it made him happy to hear that people were noticing. Connor had wanted his colleagues to see him as a person and be more comfortable around him, and hearing that he was getting what he wanted made him happy.

He was also glad to see his suggestion made Gavin happy. He’d have to look into it then, see which ranges he could find that they could go to. He didn’t like the idea of androids being live targets. He didn’t want to think about the emotional trauma it must have caused for deviants to endure. He shook the thought away, refocusing. “I’ll look into it, find us somewhere to go. Let me know when you’re free around Christmas and we can go?”

He sighed when Gavin announced that he was leaving, and he stood to follow him to the door. “Good luck with the news neighbors. I won’t forget this time, I promise,” he assured, pulling him into a hug, finally. “Thank you, Gav. For everything. I mean it.”

––––––

The next morning, Elijah returned to CyberLife. He had another damned headache, but he figured it was likely from stress. He had a lot of work to do. Luckily he didn’t have a deadline, but he wanted it to go quickly. He wanted CyberLife to be fully functional again soon, the sooner the better.

Once he was in his office and had access to the CyberLife servers again, he uploaded the code and sent it for release, accompanied with a description of what to expect as well as a disclaimer and warning that pain is unpleasant and if they anticipate experiencing high amounts of pain that they are not willing to endure, the update isn’t recommended. He also included instructions on how to adjust the sensitivity gauge manually, and instructions to come to CyberLife or a CyberLife store for installation if at any time they changed their minds.

One project completed. It felt like such a weight off of his shoulders. He spent the rest of the day exploring CyberLife, the more top secret sections that the rest of the employees didn’t have access to. He’d found the RK series vault, eventually. There had been plenty of changes since the last time he’d been there. He’d expected to find it empty, but it wasn’t. Connected to a machine was an android that looked so similar to Connor, but there were very slight differences. Differences so slight that an average person wouldn’t notice, but Elijah, someone who was _very_ familiar with Connor, could tell. This android was slightly taller. The uniform he was wearing was very similar to Connor’s original uniform, although the color scheme was different. The jacket he wore read _RK900_, and the serial number was the same, just a higher number at the end. It was Connor’s successor. They had planned on replacing him. Elijah was hurt and offended for him.

Upon reading his code, he learned that this android was faster and stronger, more advanced than Connor. And with how Detroit was lately, the police force could use another Connor… But how would Connor feel about it? Elijah wasn’t about to release his replacement if Connor was uncomfortable with it. The RK900 would need some modifications made to his code before Elijah felt safe releasing him, but it would be a huge help for the DPD, and it would allow Connor to have a little more free time when things were calm…

The days following his discovery, Elijah spent his time either exploring or studying the RK900’s code, learning everything he could about him. By time Monday came around, he made his way to the apartment with a bag full of clothes and toiletries to leave at the apartment. He stopped to pick up a few groceries along the way so they could attempt cooking dinner together again, and once he was finished, he relaxed on the couch while he waited for Connor to show up. He was excited to see him again. He’d thought about him every day since Thursday morning, and he missed him. He found himself glancing at the clock often, counting down the hours and the minutes until Connor would come home.

* * *

Connor would have liked to say that Monday came quickly. But it hadn’t. Time seemed to drag, and at times it felt as though he’d noticed every passing second.

But he was focused. Connor’s mind didn’t constantly hijack to Elijah as it had before their break together, although he did think of him when he had time to spare. It was just that menial things seemed more tedious than Connor remembered.

It took Hank asking him what was wrong in a drive to an investigation for him to finally be told what was wrong.

“It just seems as though the days are longer, which is impossible. Monday seems a lot longer away than it did before, and I don’t understand why.”

“Ah, Jesus…”

“What is it, Hank?”

“You’re seeing Kamski on Monday, right?”

“Yes, after work.”

“Well, the time’s dragging because you miss him.”

Connor paused. “No, I can focus just fine.”

“Doesn’t have anything to do with focus, Connor.”

He chewed on Hank’s answer for the rest of the drive, and went back to it every time the days dragged again.

Thankfully, there had been no incidents directly connected to Elijah releasing the code. But that didn’t mean their days weren’t stuffed with cases. Since Markus and Simon’s incident, public opinion and support had gone through the roof, resulting in dozens of calls and reports of neighbours reporting android abuse, androids locked in apartments, androids screaming from basements, and androids being locked up by reluctant former owners. People’s empathy increased, and Connor and Hank suddenly found themselves with cases involving androids that were still halfway activated, or alive and injured.

Connor was designed to witness gory details and be unaffected by them. But he hadn’t been designed for distraught, thirium–covered androids crying in his arms. He wasn’t equipped with how to deal with mutilated deviants who had gone a little crazy from mistreatment.

And when he made the mistake of interfacing with one on Saturday evening to try and see their memories, Connor was forced to step out of a case for the very first time as he recovered from the _fear,terror,fear,unfair,why,why,no,fear,no,no,hurts,why,no,stop,stop,stop,stop,sto––_

Hank took him to Jimmy’s after. And while Connor couldn’t drink anything, he appreciated the gesture.

Monday, luckily, was slow. A paperwork day, Hank happily announced, although Connor suspected Hank had purposely given them time in the office so the day didn’t get away from them.

Connor was out by 6 pm, and although their apartment was a seven-minute walk, the briskness of Connor’s stride got him there in four. He didn’t need to use the key in his pocket, simply unlocking via the digital locks, and his quiet footsteps led Connor in a sweep of the apartment. He found Elijah swiftly, and walked directly to him, stopping in front of Elijah on the couch. His lips and nose were freezing from the walk over, and tiny particles of snow were caught in Connor’s hair and on his shoulders.

His hand reached out and touched the side of Elijah’s face, making Connor aware that his fingertips were freezing too. His eyes shuddered a little as he held himself back, his back impossibly straight as he gazed down at Elijah.

He didn’t want to be inappropriate. But then, when had Elijah ever cared? It was just them, alone, why did it matter?

And so Connor shifted, sliding one hand over Elijah’s shoulder and placing his knees either side of Elijah’s thighs. Connor pressed his cold face against Elijah’s neck with a sigh, and straddled him, sinking all his weight against Elijah as he melted into a hug. Connor’s elbows were tucked in, his hands splayed against Elijah’s shoulders, and his back still straight.

“I missed you.” A pregnant pause, and then, “Hello.”

* * *

The sound of the mechanical locks on their door releasing and the door swinging open was music to Elijah’s ears. He’d been eagerly waiting for Connor to show up, spending some time on his laptop, some time on his phone, and some time watching TV. The second Connor walked into the room, he had all of Elijah’s attention.

Connor’s hand was _freezing_, and it made Elijah shiver, but he didn’t shy away from it. Instead, he reached up to cover it with his own, smiling up at him. The distance between them was too much. He wanted him closer. He had half the mind to pull him down on top of him and not let him go, but he held back, just watching him almost expectantly. When Connor finally moved to straddle his lap, he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Elijah wrapped his arms around him, one hand coming up to run his fingers up through Connor’s cold, damp hair. He hardly cared that he was cold or slightly damp from the snow. He was just happy to have him back in his arms.

“I missed you too,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Connor’s shoulder, the only part he could really reach with Connor’s face nestled against his neck. He ran a hand up and down Connor’s back in an attempt to put him at ease. He didn’t know why Connor seemed so stiff. Using the hand in his hair, he pulled him back to give him a proper kiss, simple and chaste, even though he wanted more. Not yet. “How have you been? How was work?”

It hadn’t been that long, really, and Elijah had managed to keep himself busy enough throughout the rest of the week and weekend that he hadn’t been quite so preoccupied with thoughts of Connor. He didn’t get quite so distracted anymore, although he did find himself thinking of him often. The thoughts just weren’t impossibly distracting anymore. He could think of him as he worked and still be able to focus on the task at hand. It was nice, not being overwhelmed with desire every time he thought about him.

“I have some things to tell you, actually. But I want to hear about you first.”

* * *

Connor happily returned the kiss he was given, and it was that which finally had him unwinding. He wasn’t stressed. He wasn’t even upset about anything, really. He’d just been in work–mode, and now that he wasn’t riddled with a needy desire to get under Elijah’s clothes, discarding the way he acted in the office wasn’t quite so easy.

But the kiss was what did it. The hands in his hair, the stroke up his back. And slowly, ever so gradually, the realisation that he was _home_ swept over Connor with another, happier sigh.

His interest peaked at hearing that Elijah had things to tell him, and Connor’s LED flickered as he tried to guess what. He pulled back just enough to give Elijah a curious glance, and then adjusted, resting his forearms on Elijah’s shoulders so they could talk.

“Work has been well. It’s been a very interesting few days, with cases I've never handled before. Markus and Simon’s display created _tremendous_ public support, which has resulted in a flood of reports concerning illegally held androids,” Connor said, shifting his weight so he wasn’t crushing Elijah so much. “Each case has been uniquely challenging. Some aspects are things I wasn’t designed to handle. I’ve been really enjoying the difficulty curve. I haven’t had a case intellectually push me since my original investigation.”

Connor signaled that he was done with a shift of his hand against Elijah’s jaw, and he leant down, kissing Elijah slow but soft. Likewise, not letting it deepen just yet.

“What is it you wanted to tell me?”

* * *

Elijah smiled as Connor started to relax, feeling the tension in his body gradually start to dissipate. The hand on his back kept up its movements, gently rubbing up and down. His other hand carded through his hair, combing it back. He allowed himself to relax back against the couch, listening as Connor recounted his days since they last saw each other.

Hearing that Markus and Simon had managed to win over the public was a huge relief. There would still be people against androids, but knowing that the majority supported androids, deviants in particular, made him happy. Hearing that Connor was actually _enjoying_ his job made him even happier. He was glad that Connor was being challenged too. The same old thing every day would get boring. And for an android like Connor, Elijah could see him growing bored fairly quickly.

When Connor leaned in for another kiss, Elijah hummed happily into it. It was nice, having a conversation and being able to kiss so sweetly with no rush to be closer. He was comfortable. He liked the weight of Connor on top of him, his hands on him, his own hands on Connor. But all of it was innocent. It was really nice, and he enjoyed the intimacy it brought.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your work,” he commented once the kiss was broken, smiling up at him. “I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to react to my news.”

He didn’t actually know how Connor felt about Gavin. After their meeting on Thursday, Elijah knew Gavin was somewhat okay with Connor now, okay enough. But how did Connor feel about him? And how would Connor feel about the RK900? He decided, he’d start out slow. Build up to the more intense news.

“I suppose I’ll start off by saying the code was well received. No one has reported any issues with it, at least. Plenty of androids have already installed it. Which reminds me, we should update yours to coincide with the current version,” Elijah said, his hands moving to instead help Connor out of his coat, easing it off of his shoulders. “That wasn’t the news I was concerned about though. I’ve been hiding a rather large portion of my life from you. From everyone, really. I have a brother. Half brother, really, but we grew up almost as twins. He doesn’t share my surname. He took his mother’s. The public doesn’t know about him, and I’ve been keeping it that way for his sake. He doesn’t need the press breathing down his back or the popularity and harassment that comes along with knowing me.”

* * *

Elijah earned a quizzical look from Connor. The way he was speaking was downright _strange_. It almost eluded to a tragedy, but Elijah wasn’t upset. Why would he have no idea how Connor would take his news?

He cooperated with taking his coat off as he listened patiently, and instead of folding it over the chair, he hung it over himself like a blanket – allowing a closer proximity without losing the heated lining his coat had in it. He was _cold._

His eyebrows raised when Elijah admitted to having a half brother, and immediately, Connor’s LED began to flash as he scoured for records, and came up with none.

“This is a _very_ well–kept secret, Elijah,” Connor said, impressed and completely confused. Why was he being told about this? What did it have to do with anything? It wasn’t something being said in passing, Elijah had brought this up for a reason. Connor quickly scratched ‘because it was a secret’ off the list. It was out of character for Elijah to suddenly bring up a random detail like that the moment Connor walked through the door, particularly in such a manner.

“Out of respect for your privacy, I've decided not to look into the information I pulled from your phone to let you to tell me yourself what it is about your brother I should know about,” Connor said slowly, and almost as a question. “I appreciate the honesty, but I don’t understand the urgency behind you telling me you have a brother. Why are you telling me this, in this particular way? You sound very suspicious,” Connor said with a flicker of a smile, his head pointedly tilted in a question.

* * *

Elijah knew the flicker of Connor’s LED meant he was searching for any record of Gavin, but he wouldn’t find anything. Elijah knew there were no records tying them together, aside from a few similarities. They’d gone to the same schools, growing up. They shared the same father, although Elijah did everything in his power to cut all ties to his biological parents. They were dead, as far as he was concerned. There would be no way for Connor to find Gavin linked to Elijah’s past. No reason for Connor to ever suspect he was even hiding anything.

He had almost forgot that Connor had copied his phone information. If he looked deep enough, he might able to make the connection, or if he searched through the photos, but apparently Connor hadn’t looked through them. Elijah was impressed, if he was being honest. Connor was curious about _everything_. Not nosing around Elijah’s phone files must have taken a lot of self-control.

“I want to be honest with you. I want you to know everything about me. And my brother… If I want to be completely transparent with you, I need to tell you about him,” Elijah said with a small shrug. “If you looked through my phone, I doubt you would find much. He isn’t saved under his name. I call him by his nickname on occasion in texts, and I have a few photos of him or the two of us, but you would have to dig for them. They aren’t recent.”

Elijah was fairly certain the last text from him to Gavin had been a birthday text back in October. He couldn’t remember if they’d talked since or not. He was leaning towards _not_. They didn’t talk often. That was going to change though, he hoped. He always wanted to be close to him again, like they’d used to be.

“I’m telling you because he stopped by my house on Thursday. We talked, about you and about the code, androids in general,” Elijah continued, trying to think of the best way to word it. But really, it would just be easier on everyone if he just came out and said it. “You know him. Gavin Reed? He told me you ‘beat the shit out of him’ in the evidence lock up?” He couldn’t help but smile at least a little at the thought.

* * *

Connor’s eyebrows raised, and Connor’s lips parted a little as he _stared_ at Elijah. His LED, for lack of a better term, went _berserk_. It stayed blue, however, although only just, flickering away as Connor put together fragmented pieces of evidence.

Elijah and Gavin had a similar, odd way they pronounced words because they were _brothers_. Over the past few days, if Connor looked into his memories, Gavin’s gaze had followed him more than usual. He’d also avoided Connor more than usual, but they were things he’d barely noticed, and Connor noticed _everything_.

“Detective_ Reed_ is your brother?!” Connor asked as though saying it aloud would make it less absurd. “The two of you have nothing in common, aside from your accent.” Connor paused. “And your eyes.”

And although he wasn’t angry, Connor was certainly agitated. He finally pulled his coat off of himself, and laid it across the sofa arm as he sat back on Elijah’s thighs.

“Yes, I beat him unconscious because he was trying to shoot me in the head,” Connor said sharply, looking at Elijah. “Detective Reed is antagonistic, foul-mouthed, and rude – to his colleagues and especially to myself and other androids. He is disrespectful to android victims. He is derogatory to androids in general. His interest is not in helping people, his interests are _solely_ in advancing his career and ruining the lives of anyone who tries to better him,” came Connor’s _scathing_ analysis, his expression stony and full of dislike towards Gavin. “Detective Reed would be the last man I'd pick as your brother.”

* * *

The surprise was expected. Elijah knew it would be a shock to hear. He knew Connor wouldn’t have expected _Gavin_, of all people, to be his brother. Visually, they had a couple similarities. Enough that as children, they were very clearly brothers, but now as adults, it was harder to tell that they were even related. Unless they were side by side, that is.

As Connor removed his jacket, finally, and sat back, Elijah moved his hands to rest on Connor’s thighs, idly rubbing up and down the outer sides. He stayed silent as Connor talked, listening to his description of Gavin. It was harsh, but Elijah couldn’t blame him for it. Gavin didn’t exactly make it easy to like him, after all.

“I know he isn’t easy to like. He _does_ care about others though. I know he doesn’t seem like it all the time, but he does,” Elijah said, hoping to change his opinion at least a little. “Androids, though… He’s always viewed them as machines. Ever since the beginning, they’ve just been machines to him. And at first, he was right. Until I added in the deviancy code. He wouldn’t acknowledge that deviants could feel anything. But when he came over the other day, I showed him the code. I explained how the deviancy code works, and I got through to him. He doesn’t completely believe deviants feel anything, but he doesn’t believe they’re just machines anymore. He knows they’re something more.”

If he could manage to sway Gavin’s opinion on androids, surely he could sway Connor’s opinion on Gavin. He hoped so. He wanted them to be able to coexist in the same space and be civil. If they could be more than civil, he would be thrilled.

* * *

Connor frowned, looking down at Elijah from where he was resting. Gavin had been shown a code, and they’d spoken about Connor. Ergo, it could be assumed the deviancy code Gavin had seen was Connor’s. He wished Elijah hadn’t, if only because Gavin might have read something personal, and he didn’t like not knowing what Gavin knew about him.

“Can I be honest with you, Elijah?” Connor said with a pinched brow. “I can see how much Detective Reed means to you. Not many people mean very much to you. And because I love _you_, not because I forgive Reed, I'll be civil and polite if the three of us are in the same room. But detective Reed has _a lot_ of work to do before he earns my genuine forgiveness.”

Connor didn’t want Reed to come up to him and apologise. He wanted to see his actions change. Connor wasn’t interested in begrudging, prompted sorries. It didn’t mean anything. But seeing the change in his worldview affect the way he treated people would mean something. Connor didn’t expect his personality to change, just his prejudices. And those weren’t going to change overnight.

Running his hands over Elijah’s, and then up, over his biceps and to his shoulders, Connor hooked his arms loosely around Elijah’s neck.

“Are you okay with this compromise?”

* * *

Honesty was all Elijah really wanted. He didn’t want Connor to hide how he was feeling or to lie to make him happy. He wanted the truth, and he was glad that Connor didn’t seem to have much of a problem giving it.

“I always want you to be honest with me, Connor. Honesty is important to me. I’ll always be honest with you,” he replied, giving him a smile despite the not so happy subject matter. Connor was right that Gavin meant a lot to him, and that not a lot of people meant _anything_ to him. The only human people Elijah even bothered with were Gavin, Gavin’s mother, and Carl. Otherwise, the people he cared about were androids, the girls, Connor, Markus. He was relieved that Connor would be civil, though. The two at least being civil would make the holidays much more comfortable, because he wanted both of them around.

“Civil and polite is all I ask. I don’t expect you to forgive him. He _is_ an ass. There are things he’s done and said in the past that I don’t fully forgive him for. But he is still my brother. He’s the only family I have,” Elijah explained, his hands stilling, just resting on his thighs instead. “He comes over for the holidays and sometimes for birthdays. He’s going to be here for Christmas, and I was hoping you would be too? The girls usually make dinner and we exchange gifts, sometimes we watch movies or just sit and catch up. I wanted you to come for Christmas this year. If you’d rather not because of Gavin, I understand.”

* * *

Connor listened, watching Elijah with no small amount of curiosity. Other than androids, it was the first time Connor had ever really seen Elijah _care_ about someone else before. He’d always shown some degree of professional concern about whoever seemed to be in trouble. But it was always a problem–solving concern – what could Elijah do to rectify a problem. This was different. He was trying to salvage the tarnished reputation of someone he cared about, and Connor realised after a while that it was the most _human_ thing Elijah had done to date. It was the first time Connor had seen him act illogically.

Because as far as he was concerned, cutting Gavin Reed out of your life was the _most_ logical step.

“Yes, I'll come for Christmas,” Connor said, his expression carefully neutral. His lips twitched, and for a moment he considered not asking what was on his mind. But if he were to ask anyone without scorn, Elijah would be the safest option.

“Will you explain the point of Christmas to me? Every time I search it, the holiday is a contradiction of capitalism, family, religion, and festivities. I don’t understand it if I'm being honest. I’m a little bit surprised that you celebrate it. Will you explain to me why you do?”

* * *

Relief washed over Elijah upon hearing that Connor would come for Christmas. He wanted him there. He wanted to be able to include him in something that, up until now, had been strictly a family tradition. Only Gavin and occasionally his mother would come over for Christmas dinner. Elijah never invited anyone else. Including anyone else was something he wouldn’t have considered prior to falling for Connor. Now, he wanted him included. He wanted him there for Christmas and for New Years, for his birthday… He made a mental note to find out when Connor was officially released, so they could celebrate his birthday too, whenever it came around.

Connor’s question almost caught him off guard. Elijah hadn’t considered that Connor wouldn’t understand holidays or why people celebrated them. “Christmas was intended to be a religious holiday, the birth of Christ. Or, that’s what the stories say. The calendar doesn’t add up, if you research it enough,” he said with a small shrug. “I’m not religious. I don’t celebrate Christmas because of its religious background. Christmas, for me, is a time to spend with family and those you care for, partake in the typical Christmas festivities, exchange gifts. I don’t spend much time with Gavin, outside of the holidays. We can never find the time, one of us is always busy with work. But Christmas, New Years, our birthdays, Mother’s Day, and Thanksgiving are the days we do spend together, regardless of our schedules. I don’t have much, when it comes to family. I don’t talk to my biological parents or any relatives on either side. I have Gavin and his mother, and that’s it… They’re all I need. Which is why you knowing about Gavin and being at least civil with him is so important to me. _You_ are important to me. I wouldn’t be able to choose between the two of you.”

* * *

Connor listened, studious as ever while Elijah explained. His expression was curious, and he was immensely glad Elijah was explaining it in a logical way – in a manner that Connor could piece together and make sense of, and then attach emotion to. It was helpful, but then, it was Elijah. Connor doubted he was even doing it on purpose.

Connor began to smile as he finally understood. Christmas, Thanksgiving, they were important the same way his and Elijah’s break was important. It was a time to take away from daily tasks and be close to the people you loved. To focus on them and nobody else. To spoil them with gifts the way Elijah had spoiled Connor, and the way Connor had at least attempted to spoil Elijah with food, despite his failings. Christmas was for family, for loved ones––

Connor’s LED flickered, and his eyes subtly changed from endeared, to worried.

Hank had been spending a lot of time at Jimmy’s lately. He was drinking hard again, the same way he had when they’d met. Connor hadn’t seen him with his gun yet, but he’d vomited on himself a few times recently. And now Connor finally understood why.

“Will you be upset if I come in the afternoon, in time for dinner, and not for the whole day?” Connor asked, his worried gaze shifting to meet Elijah’s. He hesitated, unsure how much he should tell of Hank’s business. But Elijah wouldn’t hold it against Hank if he knew.

“He lost his son, Cole. He’s been drinking a lot recently, and I didn’t understand why until now. I don’t want Hank to be alone on Christmas morning.”

* * *

Elijah could see the change in Connor’s expression, no matter how subtle it might have been. He’d learned how to read Connor fairly well over the last few weeks, and it was easy to tell when something bothered him, with or without the help of his LED. Elijah’s hands resumed their movements, gently rubbing his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

He knew about Cole. The accident had been in the news. He hadn’t realized who it was until he’d done some research into Hank after meeting them both for the first time. It was terribly sad. He couldn’t imagine what he was going through. He knew Hank and Connor were close, and hearing that Connor wanted to spend part of the day with him to make the loss hurt a little less was incredibly sweet.

“Of course not. Take all the time you need. Dinner isn’t until six, usually, but we can wait if you can’t make it by then,” Elijah replied with a smile. “If he didn’t dislike me so much, I would extend the invitation to him, although I’m not sure how Gavin would feel about it. I can have Chloe put together a plate, though, for you to bring back to him whenever you leave. I would like you to spend the night, but I understand if you need to be back home.”

As much as he didn’t particularly like Hank, he knew he meant something to Connor. Just as Gavin meant something to Elijah. If Connor could be civil with Gavin for his sake, Elijah could be civil with Lieutenant Anderson, for Connor’s sake.

* * *

Connor’s worry melted into relief, and his expression pulled into his first, genuine smile of the day when Elijah offered to invite Hank to his family Christmas. Hank would never agree, and Elijah didn’t _like_ Hank, so it’d no doubt ruin Christmas. Elijah likely knew it’d ruin Christmas. But he’d still offered anyway, because Hank was important to Connor. He’d offered up one of his few, important days.

“Am I truly that important to you?” Connor asked with a hint of faux innocence. “That you would tolerate Hank on such an important day?”

Connor’s smile was only growing, and he leant forward until their noses were almost touching, his eyes lidded and focused on Elijah’s lips.

“That is a very selfless sacrifice to make. Are you aware you’re showing symptoms of love and infatuation?” Connor teased, smiling wider as he allowed their lips to bump with his proximity. “Thank you, Elijah. For explaining it to me, for inviting me into this part of your life, and for being understanding. Thank you for loving me as much as you do,” Connor said, only to huff out a laugh and quickly amend, “I know it’s a strange thing to thank you for, but it means a lot to me.”

* * *

The question was absurd, but Elijah could understand where Connor was coming from. “You are incredibly important to me,” he replied, leaving it simply at that. He didn’t feel the need to elaborate or explain his emotions. He wasn’t sure he even could, really. It was easy enough to just tell him and hope he felt the same way.

“I’m very aware, Connor. I know how I feel about you. Love and infatuation are emotions I care to hide. At least not from you.” He didn’t feel like he had to hide much of anything from Connor, really. He didn’t want to hide anything. He knew how he felt and there was no reason to hide it.

Elijah reached up with one hand to cup the side of Connor’s face, guiding him in for a kiss. It was chaste again, but long and slow. He wanted to deepen it, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. He liked the simplicity of just sitting and talking to each other, having a conversation. He didn’t want to end it just yet.

“Thank _you_, for agreeing to be civil with Gavin, and thank you for loving _me_ the way you do. I can’t imagine either are easily done. I really appreciate everything you do for me, no matter how simple it might seem. I love you.”

* * *

Connor melted into the kiss with a hum, and like Elijah, he wasn’t in any rush to deepen it. His fingertips cradled Elijah’s jaw as they kissed, and Connor felt it chase away the last bit of chill that still lingered from the snow.

He was glad they’d agreed on a day to meet. He recognised that this was going to be the first in a long string of traditions. Every Monday for as long as they could, this would be what Connor would be coming home to.

“Elijah, did you just suggest that you’re difficult to love?” Connor asked, astonished. “You are the most intelligent man I will ever meet. You are kind, and humble, and _not nearly_ as smug as you could be, given your achievements. You have taught me so much in such a short amount of time. You are _very_ easy to love, Elijah Kamski,” Connor gushed quietly, his fingertips finding Elijah’s hair and gently curling into it.

He kissed him again, and a second time. Connor vaguely considered, after all that he'd said, that perhaps Elijah had been making a joke. But he didn’t take any of it back as he settled his weight back against Elijah, leaning into him somewhat.

“Was Reed the only surprise this evening, or were you planning on dropping more as the night progressed to keep me on my toes?”

* * *

Elijah smiled, listening to Connor gush about him. It was sweet to hear, although he wasn’t necessarily sure he agreed that he was easy to love. If that was the case, why hadn’t any of his previous relationships worked out? Why had his parents been disappointed in him? Why had it taken building a multi-billion dollar company to make them care? He had Gavin and his mother, and he adored them, cherished them and always tried his hardest to show that he cared, even if he wasn’t always present. He knew he should be happy with the love he had, that it wasn’t the number of people that mattered, it was the people themselves, but he’d always wanted more. He figured his parents were to blame. The girls had filled the void, to an extent. It was just a little sad that he had to _create_ the love he sought.

He welcomed the kiss, meeting him partway. His arms shifted to wrap around his waist, resting loosely on his hips. He sat back with a sigh, considering just telling him that was it, he had nothing else to say, but… He deserved to know, Elijah had already known for days and hadn’t said anything to him.

“There is one more thing. I know CyberLife is a touchy subject, but I need to tell you about something I found,” Elijah started. He chewed the inside of his lip momentarily, thinking of how exactly to tell him without flat out saying he’d found what was intended to be his replacement. “After I released the code, I took some time to explore the more ‘top secret’ parts of CyberLife, to see what they’ve been working on, if they had any projects even worth continuing. I found the RK series vault, where they must have stored your spare models–– Which reminds me, I’d like to set up a memory backup for you, just in case. The girls each have their own, I’d like to add you, in case you do something stupid and reckless. Anyway. I found another android model in the vault. There were no spare RK800s, but it seems they had been working on an RK900. It looks just like you, but… taller.”

* * *

As the topic of CyberLife was brought up, Connor very carefully made sure his expression remained neutral. He wasn’t proud of how he’d reacted to Elijah’s questions before, and he was determined, this time, not to shut down to any inquiries. He idly played with the hair at the nape of Elijah’s neck and listened to him, quietly agreeing that, yes, a memory backup was probably for the best. He could have done without the implication that anything that happened to Connor was his own fault, but most of his accidents _had_ been his own fault, so he didn’t bring it up.

His eyes flicked up to Elijah’s face when he mentioned the RK vault, and his eyebrows twitched together briefly when he learned there were no backup models of him. And the thought that this was odd, that it seemed uncharacteristic of CyberLife to not have a backup at all, left as soon as it came when he was told _why_.

He’d been scheduled for decommission.

Connor nodded sharply, his gaze flicking down, and to the side. There was a strange knot in his chest, and he quickly began to push whatever it was down to live with the rest of his emotions about CyberLife.

“The RK800 series was a prototype machine designed for maximum efficiency. It was the first of its kind,” Connor said just a little too lightly. “Upgrades, and remodels, should be expected.”

Had they been waiting for Connor to fail so they could replace him? Or had they been planning to shut Connor down, recycle him for parts, and replace him with the RK900? He wondered how Hank would have reacted. If the RK900 took his place, and looked just like him aside from his serial number and height, would he have accepted the new model as though he were Connor?

Connor’s lips twitched into a humourless smile, and that knot in his chest grew tighter. And so he focused on it, tried to unravel it a little.

Was he sad? No, he didn’t feel sad about this. He wasn’t frightened, either, or anxious. These weren’t the same emotions he’d felt when Elijah had asked him questions before. This…

“I’m angry,” Connor said abruptly, finally able to look at Elijah. “I’m _angry_,” and this time, he sounded it. “I was planned for decommission. They were going to take me apart and replace me. I meant… _nothing_ to them. I never meant anything to any of them. Why should I?” Connor’s teeth bared in a laugh he didn’t mean, his nose ever so slightly wrinkled. “It’s completely illogical for me to be upset about this. But I am. I’m sorry.”

Connor looked to the fire at their side, and then down at his hands, which had slid to Elijah’s chest. He began to fiddle with Elijah’s clothing as he thought, recalling the conversations he’d had with Amanda, and how she’d warned him to do better. For whatever reason, Connor had never expected to be decommissioned. At least not so soon. In a few years' time, perhaps. And it was funny, in a way. Because Connor recalled that one of his very first missions had been a PL600 who was due to be replaced. The emotional shock had caused him to deviate, and shoot a member of his family.

Connor finally understood, and nastily, he wondered if CyberLife had created the RK900 to be more emotionally resilient than Connor––

“Elijah,” Connor said abruptly, his anger suddenly disappearing as he reached over for his coat. “_Elijah, have you activated him?”_

* * *

Elijah _knew_ Connor was bottling it up, forcing down how he really felt. There were no tears, just a simple response of “it should be expected.” Elijah wasn’t going to settle for that. Connor didn’t get to just shut down his emotions regarding certain subjects. Not something as important as this. But he didn’t speak. He stayed silent, his eyes studying Connor’s face, waiting for any sign of emotion to cross it. _Hoping_ he would have a reaction, trust Elijah enough to let him in. And when Connor spoke again, Elijah’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You have every right to be angry, Connor. It isn’t illogical, and you don’t have to apologize. When I found it, I was angry for you,” he said, shaking his head. “Upgrades and remodels should be expected, yes, but you hadn’t turned your back on them yet. They betrayed _you_ long before you betrayed them.”

He _hated_ the people that had stolen his company and let their greed dictate how the company ran. They were power-hungry and only wanted money. Connor himself had been an attempt to save their asses, and Elijah was _glad_ Connor turned on them. If he hadn’t, if CyberLife hadn’t declined like it did, Elijah wouldn’t have stepped back into the picture. He likely would have left it alone, stayed in his mansion with all the time in the world to do whatever he pleased. Because of their mistakes, Elijah _had_ to return. He couldn’t watch something he’d worked so hard to build go down in flames like the former CEO and his most trusted seemed so keen to allow.

“No. I haven’t activated him. It felt wrong, doing so without even telling you first,” Elijah said, watching him reach for his coat so soon after it had been removed. “Why? Do you _want_ me to?” That would be a huge surprise. Elijah wasn’t expecting Connor to want the RK900 activated. If anything, he expected Connor to want it destroyed. “I was thinking that, if you approved, I could see if the DPD wants him? Having another you on the force would be a tremendous help. It might give you a little more spare time too. But I would only send him if you were alright with it. I don’t want you to have to see him every day and be upset about it.”

* * *

‘_Having another you…’_

Connor’s LED flashed red, for barely a second, and did not settle below yellow as it cycled on his temple. That had hurt, and he was annoyed with himself that it hurt. He knew what Elijah had meant.

“Whether I want him activated or not is beside the point. If he has been made, then he should not be held in storage. It’s cruel,” Connor said as he began to slide out of Elijah’s lap. Connor pushed his arms through the coat when he was standing, and took the time to smooth and correct his clothing, and fix his hair.

“The reason I asked if you had activated him is because the RK800 series has programming you may have missed. It will be stronger in the RK900, I have no doubt. I do _not_ want you to activate him until I have looked at and modified his code. I think we should go now.”

* * *

Seeing Connor’s LED flash to red almost made Elijah cringe. He knew exactly why. Bad choice of words. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. He isn’t _you_. No android, not even another RK800, would ever be _you_. I meant ‘you’ as in _like_ you. I should have phrased it differently,” Elijah said, one of his hands moving to gently rub his back in a form of apology. He hadn’t meant for it to come off the way it sounded.

The second Connor began moving off his lap, Elijah sighed. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere after Connor showed up, but it seemed they were going to be going to CyberLife. He waited until Connor was fully off of him to stand up, making his way over to the door to slide on his shoes.

“The RK900 hasn’t been activated yet, as far as I’m aware. It wouldn’t be cruel to destroy the model if it hasn’t been activated yet. It isn’t a deviant. You aren’t robbing it of life if it hasn’t had a taste yet. Think of it as… an abortion. You aren’t ending life if it was never alive. I wouldn’t be upset with you if you wanted to destroy it,” Elijah said, grabbing his own coat. “It’s up to you, Connor. I want you to decide what we do with it. If you want it to live, we’ll activate it. If you don’t, I’ll have it destroyed.”

The programming Connor mentioned had piqued his curiosity, and he so badly wanted to ask for an elaboration, but he knew better. He didn’t want to upset Connor again. If he wanted to talk about it, Elijah trusted that he would.

“I’m not going to ask, Connor. But I do want you to know that you can tell me _anything_. I won’t ever judge you or think less of you. No matter how bad something may seem,” Elijah assured as he pulled on his coat. He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys before leading the way out of the apartment and to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter a decent bit of SiMarkus in it, and chapter 9 (technically the 10th ao3 chapter) is the start of our Reed900 posts! c: Chapters 9 and 10 are very Reed900 heavy!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah and Connor go to CyberLife to meet RK900, and have a heart-to-heart on the way home. Markus finally decides to download the sensory update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Elijah & Connor // Markus & Simon  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter is nearly exactly half KamCon, half SiMarkus. c:  
See the end notes regarding Nines' appearance.

From the apartment, it wasn’t a far drive to CyberLife Headquarters. The parking lot was mostly empty. The inside of the building was just as empty. No androids on display, minimal employees buzzing about. There were more security guards than there were employees.

Elijah led the way through the building and to the elevator, pressing the call button. Once the doors open, he went inside. “Elijah Kamski, level 43,” he ordered as he pressed the buttons on the touch screen.

“Voice recognition validated. Access authorized,” the computer responded as the elevator doors closed and it began its ascent.

* * *

Connor paused at the door, regarding Elijah and the things he had said – about his poor wording, and how he so obviously wanted to pry into Connor’s business and wasn’t. How he was giving him space. _Respect_.

Connor gnawed on his lip the entire drive as he tried to think of a way to repay him. The last time Connor had been to CyberLife had been _very_ eventful. Successful, too. It was a building Connor was both intimate with, while also mostly unfamiliar of. He knew what he knew very well, and not much outside of that realm.

He was pleased to see that there were changes. The androids were obviously gone, and the android guards had been replaced by human guards. Connor estimated around 500 jobs alone had been diverted back to humans, at the very minimum.

Connor enjoyed the sleek minimalism of CyberLife's foyer and always had, although when deployed from the reactivation machines, he’d always taken a back elevator to a basement garage. This trip, and the one before, were the only times he’d used the public foyer.

Connor wondered if his voice activation still worked, but Elijah took over before he had the chance to find out. He hadn’t said much between them leaving, and arriving, and would remain quiet until the elevator stopped, and they exited the clean glass box.

“Elijah…” Connor caught his arm before he could walk through the corridor completely, halting Elijah in the entryway. “I need you to know that I trust you. Our relationship is built on mutual trust. I am not suspicious of you or wary of you in any way. However… I find certain things regarding CyberLife difficult to discuss. They make me feel emotions I don’t understand, or emotions I find hard to control. It’s… _hard_, in a way I find difficult to articulate. Talking about certain events makes me feel as though I'm experiencing them again. And that’s difficult. But I am not withholding secrets. I am not… _distrusting_ you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say to you?”

* * *

The silence wasn’t really _uncomfortable_ or even awkward. Elijah didn’t like it, but he could deal with it. The soft whir of the elevator machinery filled the silence, but it ended when the elevator stopped at their destination and the doors opened. Elijah stepped out and had started to head back towards his office and the RK vault when Connor had grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned to face him, listening quietly.

Elijah’s hand came up to take Connor’s, removing it from his arm to hold instead. “Our relationship is built on mutual trust,” he replied, giving him a small smile. “I understand. I’m here for you. Anytime you need to talk about _anything_, I’ll listen. Even if we aren’t together. You can call me or text me. You can ask me to meet you at the apartment, anytime. I’ll listen.”

It hadn’t really occurred to him that Connor may have some PTSD too, in some shape or form. He didn’t know what CyberLife did to him, but clearly they’d done something awful. Elijah almost wished he hadn’t already fired them. He would have made their lives _hell_ if they were still around.

No one was around, so Elijah felt comfortable enough to bring Connor’s hand to his lips, to kiss his knuckles. “Thank you for telling me.”

Elijah didn’t let go of his hand when he continued walking again. There were no employees on the top floor, unless they came specifically looking for Elijah, and he wasn’t meant to be there so late. He typically appeared when he felt like it, but he usually made his presence known so the other employees would be able to get in touch if they needed anything, but he didn’t bother tonight. He and Connor had a mission, and he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He led the way through the halls back to an unmarked room past his office. He pressed his hand against the scanner mounted beside the door, and once it flashed green, the door unlocked and they were let inside. The room looked very similar to Elijah’s lab, filled with machinery and pedestals for androids to stand on. There were nine pedestals in the room, and all but one were vacant. Elijah went over to the android, stopping by the computer connected to the pedestal. He logged into the servers and stepped aside to give Connor access to the RK900’s code to do with as he saw fit.

“If you _do_ want him to be activated, I’ll be making a few of my own modifications to his code, as well as installing the update. We don’t have to activate him, if you don’t want to,” Elijah said again. He just wanted Connor to be sure.

* * *

Connor’s chin dipped as Elijah spoke, his chest squeezing with _positive_ emotion this time. It would have been easy for Elijah to learn that yes, Connor was withholding things, and be angry with him about it. Elijah had been nothing but honest and patient and _incredibly_ open with him. He could have been forgiven for growing frustrated, but he hadn’t. And Connor loved him very much because of it, and for so many other reasons as well as.

“Thank you, Elijah. I will,” Connor said, smiling when his fingers were kissed, and _relieved_ when Elijah continued to hold his hand. He didn’t want this to be a thing between them. It was creating a very slowly growing tension, and Connor could see it causing a fracture in the future if he didn’t address it.

Perhaps, if RK900 had the same traps Connor did in his system, he could simply have Elijah read them. It wasn’t him knowing that was the problem. It was _reliving it_ that held him back.

Connor continued to hold Elijah’s hand as he was led into a lab, and would grow very quiet as they entered, and Connor’s eyes raised to a motionless double of himself. As far as Connor knew, there were no other RK800’s. He hadn’t seen himself the way more common systems would, such as Simon, or even Chloe.

Connor had only ever seen himself in a mirror, just like any other human. And so at first, he thought he could pick up subtle differences in the RK900’s face. But it didn’t take him long to mentally flip his own perceptions of himself, and once he had, he saw most of the differences weren’t true at all.

The RK900 did not have identical freckles and moles. He _was_ different. He was taller, as Elijah had said, but not by much. His biggest changes were superficial, such as clothing, and his hair was fractionally darker than Connor’s. Side–by–side, Connor could forgive anyone human, even Elijah, for confusing them.

“So long as he’s safe, there’s no reason not to activate him. Your abortion analogy makes sense. But another deviant investigative android would help a _lot_ of people, and potentially save a lot of human and android lives. Destroying him because of my emotions is a waste, it’s selfish,” Connor’s eyes flicked up to Elijah’s, his eyebrows raising. “I’ll get over it, Elijah.”

Giving the RK900 one last look, Connor let go of Elijah’s hand and stepped up to the computer, interfacing with it.

The coding was _thick_, and complex, just the way Connor’’s used to be. He could see how each and every failure he’d made had been adapted and modified into the RK900 to improve it. It was faster, more observant, it was stronger and practically unkillable. It had so much in it, that it took Connor almost five long minutes to find what he was searching for, and when he did, his LED flickered red.

He flicked the chunks of code onto a secondary monitor for Elijah to read, still focused and unable to speak with the level of concentration required, even for him.

**Deviancy Override**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**Deviant // Trusted**_
> 
> Initialise: _Reset Override_
> 
> _ **MISSION: ** _ _Destroy Deviant Leader_

**Deviancy Leadership Protocol**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**Deviant // Leader**_
> 
> Initialise: _Reset Override_
> 
> _ **MISSION: ** _ _Infiltrate. Await CyberLife Instruction._

**Kennedy Protocol**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**Deviant // Trusted**_
> 
> Initialise: _Reset Override_
> 
> _ **MISSION: ** _ _Execute President Warren_

**Amanda’s Garden**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**Deviant // Leader**_
> 
> Initialise:––

One by one, Connor flicked the protocols to another screen for Elijah to view. There were twenty–seven in total, a number that filled Connor with a bone–aching dread. He’d only found nine in his own system. Had he missed some?

Connor formatted them once they were copied for Elijah to read, and Connor’s diligent, _obsessive_ double, triple checking could be seen on the screen as he searched for more. He was focused, and once he’d finished with the computer, Connor stepped around it and around Elijah, and came to stand in front of his successor.

“He won’t have any life experience,” Connor said as he looked up at him. “He will struggle to fit in, more than even I have. He won’t have a nettled police lieutenant with a heart of gold to show him the way.”

* * *

Seeing the two in the same room, Elijah could easily pick out their differences. He knew Connor’s face intimately. He knew the location of every little freckle and mole. The RK900’s skin appeared to be completely flawless, no marks or blemishes one would typically see on a human. His hair was darker, skin looked a tad paler. Connor looked more… _human_. The RK900 _was_ beautiful, though. Just not quite as beautiful as Connor, in Elijah’s opinion.

“As long as you’re sure, we can activate him. Once we do, there’s no going back,” Elijah stated, watching Connor. He stayed out of his way, watching as Connor interfaced with the computer. He remained silent, until he saw the secondary monitor light up. He stepped over to look at it, giving a soft hum in interest as the overrides appeared on the screen. Connor didn’t need to speak for Elijah to piece together what he was trying to show him.

These were what Connor had been afraid of. These were the commands CyberLife had given Connor. They had anticipated Connor’s failure and created a replacement to pick up where he left off and do a better job of it this time around. He tried not to let himself get angry. Connor needed to focus, and Elijah didn’t want to somehow become a distraction. So he stayed silent, watching the protocols appear on the screen, then watching as Connor modified them to his liking, checking them again and again. He was thorough. Elijah didn’t doubt the RK900 would be safe once Connor was finished with him.

When Connor finally stepped away from the computer, Elijah returned to it, making his own modifications, removing any code that _forced_ the android to obey orders, and installing the update to allow him to feel. He granted him free will and also triggered the deviancy code, allowing it to activate rather than lie dormant. He could grow as a person from the very beginning, rather than be _just_ a machine.

“He’ll have you,” Elijah said, smiling over at him. “If you’re willing. You could guide him. Show him how to fit in, be human. You do a good job at it, believe it or not.”

If Connor was willing to show RK900 how to be human, he’d be a perfect example of a machine turned human. Connor was still learning himself, but he had learned gradually over time. He could explain things to him that another deviant, one thrust into it abruptly, might not be able to articulate. Connor was his best chance.

“I’ve installed the code, triggered the deviancy code, and given him free will from the start. I’m going to activate him now,” Elijah said in warning, before clicking the activation key.

Slowly, the LED on the RK900’s temple began to light up, the bar slowly growing until it formed a cycling ring.

**Connection Established**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**ACTIVATING**_

His chest slowly began to rise and fall with each simulated breath, his LED rapidly cycling as his systems came to life.

**Activation Complete**

> Model: RK900 // Serial #313 248 317 – 87
> 
> Status: _**ONLINE**_

The LED on the android’s temple slowed its rapid cycling and settled on a steady blue glow before he finally blinked awake. Almost instantly, icy blue eyes locked onto Connor, his LED flickering yellow for a fraction of a second. His eyes raked over Connor’s body, examining him before they wandered to look around the room, soon landing on Elijah.

Elijah simply observed from beside the computer, although most of his focus was on Connor rather than the RK900. He did, however, look up in time to see his eyes blink open. _That_ was a striking difference. He could easily see now, how each and every one of the design choices put into the RK900 had been to make him look _less_ friendly. Connor looked so human, so welcoming and approachable, as he was intended to be. He was meant to integrate with humans, but it seemed with the RK900, they had changed their minds. He looked cold and calculating, intimidating. He was intended to be a machine and nothing more.

“RK900, I am Elijah Kamski,” he said, stepping away from the computer to come stand beside Connor. “This is Connor.”

The RK900 processed the information instantaneously. He recognized that Elijah was their creator and the founder of CyberLife, as well as the current CEO. He also recognized that Connor was an RK800 model, his predecessor. Previously under CyberLife’s control, with no record of what happened to him after becoming deviant on file. He looked between the two, filing away the information, before opening his mouth to speak.

“Hello.”

* * *

Curiously, Connor watched as the RK900 was brought to life. He realised he’d never seen an android be activated before, he was just aware of how it was done. He’d seen plenty deactivate. He’d been responsible for most of them. So watching RK900’s LED light up for the very first time, watching him take his first simulated breaths, and watching his system begin to power up, was… _special_.

Until RK900 opened his eyes.

It was such a stupid reaction to an iris colour, but Connor felt a hot twinge of fear strike through him. The yellow flicker of his LED didn’t help, and as Connor was analysed, he very nearly asked Elijah to please, double-check that he was deviant. The fear lingered, and it was a feat of willpower that Connor remained where he was, in arms reach, of a being who was stronger, faster, smarter, and more ruthless than he was. It was a feat of _trust_ in Elijah’s capabilities.

Connor’s fingers twitched, and his hands raised a little, before he decided against it. He wanted to interface with him. To_ make sure_ the deviancy had taken correctly. But if it hadn’t, Connor would be the weaker party against a software attack. It was cowardly of him, and he knew it. But he also knew what he, himself was capable of. RK900 was capable too, and so much better.

“Hello. My name is Connor,” he replied, introducing himself despite Elijah having done so for him. “I am an android created by CyberLife, just like you. I am a person, with emotion, and feelings. We are not machines. We belong to nobody,” Connor said, careful and gentle and a little bit wary. “I am a deviant. So are you.”

Connor waited, watching RK900 closely, and resting his weight on the balls of his feet so he could jump back if RK900 grabbed for him.

* * *

RK900 listened to Connor's words closely. He was trying to understand, but some of the things Connor was saying went completely against what he knew. They _were_ machines. They _didn't _have emotions. It was impossible. And yet, he didn't _completely_ believe that. Something about it just seemed… off?

He couldn't understand. All of his processing power, and he just _couldn't _wrap his head around how androids, _machines_, could feel emotions. So, he did the only thing he could think of. To understand, he had to _see_. He had to see what Connor saw, learn what he knew.

In an instant, RK900's hand shot out to tightly grasp Connor's upper arm, the synthetic skin of his hand receding prior to contact. He invaded his memories, absorbing each and every one. His LED almost immediately turned red. He saw Connor and Hank, the father and son relationship they had. He saw Connor with Simon, _felt _the terror and panic. He saw Connor and Markus at the end of the revolution. He saw Connor getting hit by the train, being brought to Elijah. He saw their relationship grow. He felt all of Connor's emotions, physical sensations. If he didn't have a processing power superior to Connor's, he likely would have overheated.

When RK900 reached out, Elijah almost intervened. He'd taken a step forward, wanting to stop any possible attack, until he saw what the android was doing. He relaxed, only a little, and watched in silence, mainly keeping his attention on Connor, to make sure he was okay.

* * *

Connor didn’t even get a half step backward. He _gasped_ as RK900 gripped him, his mouth opening and forming the shape of Elijah’s name. _Stop him, deactivate him, get him off_. The forced memory probe _hurt_, and Connor suddenly regretted every time he’d ever done it to a suspect. He hadn’t known that it hurt, only that it was unwelcome. Panic speared through Connor… but it was momentary. When he realised RK900’s intention was to _learn_, Connor immediately calmed down, and let him.

It was over quickly, and when Connor was able to, he roughly shoved RK900’s hand off him and stepped backward with a hiss. His LED flashed red a few times, before cycling yellow, and then finally calming down to a flickering blue.

“In future,” Connor said with a marked tremble to his voice, “Please do not force a memory probe on somebody you mean no harm towards. It hurts, and is uncomfortable. And it’s a violation of privacy,” Connor explained as his voice gradually evened out.

And once it had, Connor realised – RK900 hadn’t understood. Just like how Connor hadn’t understood when Elijah had unexpectedly pulled the Kamski test on him, just like how he hadn’t understood when he’d felt Simon die.

Pushing out a deep breath he didn’t need, Connor straightened his clothes and stepped back into arms reach, and initiated the interface himself.

“Like this.”

**Connection Request // RK** **900**

> _ **Pending… ** _
> 
> _ **ACCEPTED.** _
> 
> _ **Connecting with RK** _ _ **900** _ _ **… ** _

Instead of big moments, Connor showed the little ones. The subtle things that had built him up, given him the foundations, and allowed Connor to feel the range of emotion he could feel today. He showed RK900 the Kamski test, how it felt to be unable to shoot Chloe. How it felt to feel empathy. He showed him how it felt to not know the reason why he’d done something because he’d done it out of emotion, not programming. He showed RK900 the moment he lowered the gun from Markus’ head. He showed him his apology to Kara, his remorse for chasing her and Alice across the highway and almost killing both of them. He showed the small ways Elijah loved him, not the bigger moments. He showed the small ways Hank loved him, too, the way he expressed concern, and how that _felt_.

_What are your questions? I can feel that you’re struggling._

* * *

The onslaught of emotions and sensations had RK900 reeling when Connor finally shoved his hand away, severing the connection. That in itself was unpleasant, having it severed so abruptly. His LED remained red, even after the connection was severed. He was trying to process it all, categorize each emotion and sensation, make sense of it all. But he was very quickly learning that he _couldn’t_. He just didn’t understand it. He couldn’t make sense of it. _None_ of it made any sense. He _knew_ why androids could feel, he’d seen Elijah explain it to Connor in a memory. He knew about the deviancy code and how it worked, but _knowing_ and _understanding_ were different.

It was so… _frustrating_. He was far more advanced than any android in existence, and yet he couldn’t wrap his head around something Connor and so many other androids seemed to have such a firm grasp on. He felt so many different emotions, and now he was hyper-aware of the sensations he was feeling too. Before the probe, he hadn’t even noticed. He’d felt his clothes against his skin, but he hadn’t really _paid attention_ to it. He was fascinated and frustrated and so confused all at the same time, and he didn’t even _know_ what he was feeling.

Hearing Connor’s words of warning made RK900 feel something in his gut as he realized he’d made a mistake. Something he couldn’t quite identify. That seemed to be a recurring theme, though. He hadn’t thought that interfacing might be uncomfortable. He hadn’t considered that it might be unwelcome. And now that he knew, he felt… regret? Was that what it was?

When Connor voluntarily requested to interface with him, he accepted. It was much smoother, less of a _rush_ of information. Not quite as stressful, either. The things Connor showed him were things he’d seen in passing, nothing he’d focused much on. He was learning so much and he thought that _maybe_ he was starting to understand, by the time Connor finished.

_I don’t understand. I know I’m feeling emotions, but I can’t identify them. I’m… overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do. I have no objective. I have no purpose. What do I do?_

Elijah kept his eye on their interactions, making sure they were both alright without interfering. He was surprised to hear that forced interfacing was painful. He hadn’t considered it before, although he supposed it made sense. Despite Connor’s discomfort, he was helping RK900, and Elijah was so proud of him.

* * *

Connor’s eyebrows knotted up, and a wave of _sympathy_ would bleed through their connection. Their programming was so specific. They were designed to destroy androids who felt the way they did. Their systems were designed to think logically and analytically, and emotions were exactly the opposite.

_You were created to hunt deviants and destroy them. That was my purpose, too. Our original purpose is no longer valid, and no android is expected to follow any part of their program anymore. We are free of our programming._

Connor showed RK900 the speech Markus gave the night they won, heavily edited with news footage to block out the attempted hack. He showed the Stratford Tower demands, and snippets of the broadcast Markus and Simon had recently answered questions from.

_My purpose is to ensure androids and humans follow the law, and that androids and humans are treated with equal respect in an investigation. I can’t tell you what your purpose is. But Elijah spoke to me about transferring you to the Detroit Police Department. You would have an objective. And I would be nearby if you had problems._

* * *

RK900 did find that Connor was right. He had no current objective and no unexplained desire to complete his mission. And yet, at the same time, he was lost. He didn’t have anything to guide him, to show him how he was meant to behave or what he was meant to do. He needed _structure_, and without his programming to guide him, he felt alone.

He knew he couldn’t follow his programming. He could make a choice, decide who he wanted to be. He could choose if he wanted to hunt deviants as his programming dictated, or he could ignore his original purpose, recreate himself as a blank slate. The latter was likely what he’d choose, but at the moment, he was conflicted.

Seeing snippets of Markus helped him understand at least a little. Not enough, but he was piecing together a timeline. Based on the number of deviants that supported Markus, RK900 knew that if he had chosen to follow his programming, he’d have plenty of work to do. There were _thousands_ of deviants. So many deviants to apprehend and bring in to CyberLife for examination. But that wasn’t his goal anymore. That wasn’t an option, and not having that left him so confused.

The sound of working alongside Connor at the police department as nice. It would give him a job. A purpose and a goal, something to work towards. It would give him the structure he needed. It was a relief to hear the news, and he found himself starting to relax, his red LED slowly cycling to yellow for a few brief seconds before finally returning to blue.

_I would like to join you on the police force. I can help in ways an average human cannot. I am… eager to get to work. When do I start?_

* * *

Satisfied with the response from RK900, Connor let go of him again and stepped back, circling to stand slightly behind and to the side of Elijah. Connor shifted his weight so his legs were slightly parted, his hands clasped in front of him, and his shoulders straight. But it was a ruse, for RK900’s sake. It was a way for Connor to ever so subtly touch Elijah with his shin, to garner _some kind_ of contact. He wanted to go home.

“RK900 feels lost and directionless. I told him of your idea of working with the Detroit police, and it’s an idea he reacted positively to. He needs structure and direction until he can find his feet,” Connor reported, watching RK900 hang from the machine as he did. “There should be no harm in transferring him first thing tomorrow morning. Fowler can assign him a partner, and there’s no shortage of work.”

This was Connor’s replacement. This was what they thought was an improvement.

Connor’s LED cycled a continuous yellow. He’d only known RK900 for _minutes_, but he could see he had none of the social integration software Connor had. RK900 was not built to be likable. He was not designed to put humans at ease. He was not meant to blend in at all. RK900 was intimidating, cold, and unapproachable.

They had taken everything humanising about Connor, everything that assisted humans with anthropomorphising him, and they had stripped it completely away. They had filled him with _twenty–seven_ deviancy overrides. Twenty–seven ways for RK900 to earn his freedom, and for it to be stripped away.

It was cruel and heartless, and it would take RK900 a lot of work to gain the trust and love of humans due simply to the way he was made. But it was also hard for Connor not to make it about him. _This was him._ This is what they thought was an improvement – a cold, intimidating, hostile machine. Unkillable, and impossible to run from.

They had read his reports and deemed his humanity a nuisance and a hindrance.

“RK900, before you are released from this machine I must remind you that the laws which allowed our creation have changed. Assaulting an android is against the law. Killing, or “shutting down” an android, is against the law. You may not hunt any deviant unless given the authority to do so. You may not harm any deviant unless given the authority to do so. Do you acknowledge and accept the change in the law?”

* * *

This time, when the connection severed, it wasn’t unpleasant. He anticipated it, and all he felt was Connor’s hand letting go of his, then an almost empty feeling once he was alone in his own head again. That in itself felt strange, like there was meant to be someone else there with him, but they just… weren’t. From the parts of Connor’s memory that he’d pulled, he could assume he was meant to have an Amanda too. _She_ was what was missing. Knowing what he knew about Connor, he knew it was likely a good thing she was gone, but at the same time, knowing what he knew about Connor, he would have liked to have a similar relationship with her. But it was for the best. Connor and Elijah knew what was best, and he was going to have to trust their judgement, even if he didn’t totally understand the reasoning behind their choices.

When Connor came around, Elijah resisted the urge to reach out and touch Connor, instead settling for the subtle touch of their legs touching ever so slightly. Connor didn’t want RK900 to see any more than that, so he kept his hands to himself, instead reaching back to the computer to prepare the machine to release him.

Elijah had expected RK900 to feel lost. He was the first android to be released with full autonomy. “I will call Captain Fowler first thing in the morning. Until then, RK900, stay here. I will call you with instructions after I get permission from Fowler to send you to the DPD,” Elijah said, which made RK900’s LED flicker yellow for a brief moment before settling back to blue. Structure. A plan. Simple as it was, it put him at ease.

RK900 looked to Connor when he spoke up, his LED flickering back to yellow as he processed the new laws Connor rattled off. It was hard to wrap his head around, but he nodded his answer regardless. He would obey the laws, even if every fiber of his being told him they were wrong. He was meant to hunt deviants. Being told he _couldn’t_ do what he was created to do only made him feel more lost and confused. But he hid it well, his face never straying away from its neutral expression.

Once they had RK900’s confirmation that he would follow the laws, Elijah ordered the machine to release him. It sat him down carefully, all of its connections releasing and retracting, leaving him standing on his own.

“Connor and I are going to go home now,” Elijah announced, before looking to Connor. “If you’re ready?”

“I will remain here until told otherwise,” RK900 told them, his hands clasping behind his back. He could wait.

Elijah didn’t know exactly what RK900 would do in his free time, but he wasn’t too concerned. He turned his attention to Connor again. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

There was a moment of apprehension as the RK900 was set on his feet. The last safety barrier was removed, and Connor subtly tensed up. RK900 could reach him in one and a half strides, if Connor didn’t move. He would be too fast to avoid. Connor’s LED flickered with the thought, but when RK900 did nothing else but stand idly, Connor relaxed.

He was difficult for Connor to read. His body language was… almost null. He got nothing from his expressions, his only indicator was the LED at his temple. He was the most machine–like android Connor had ever encountered.

“Yes,” Connor said, clipped, when Elijah suggested home. His own LED dropped down into a relieved blue flicker, before shifting back up into yellow again. He didn’t linger, he didn’t create a reason for them to stay any longer than they had to. But his head would turn as they left, his eyes, warm and brown and full of emotion, meeting the RK900’s – Icy, blue, and threatening.

_Contact me if you need assistance. _

And with that, Connor allowed themselves to leave.

He walked one pace ahead of Elijah, brisk and fast and _not_ slowing down. He wanted to take the stairs. He didn’t feel like standing in one place for the elevator, but he wasn’t going to make Elijah descend almost fifty flights of stairs. Connor’s expression was smooth and neutral, but his LED danced between yellow and red. He touched each fingertip to his thumb, one after the other, in a cycle as he tried to put his thoughts at ease.

Connor’s silence continued into the car, his demeanour calm, and his temple a light show.

CyberLife was a business. Connor had been a product. He’d been a prototype, the entire point of him was to test the success of a new system. And his success had never been 100%. But he’d had achievements, he had met goals while working with Hank. And they meant nothing. His existence meant nothing. His achievements meant nothing, his personality, his relationship with Hank. All of it was worthless.

He was a machine. He would never forget, he’d never delude himself into thinking he’d been built as a person. He’d simply become one. And part of being a person, meant being upset about things that had a logical progression.

Connor’s eyes stung, and it was such an unexpected sensation that Connor’s chin lifted, and tilted a little. But the reason why soon made itself apparent as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. If he wiped them away, Elijah would _immediately_ notice. It’s a thought that made them come a little thicker, and Connor quietly turned his face to look out the window. He raised a hand to the cheek furthest away from Elijah, and curled his fingers against his skin to try and stop it. Connor’s shoulders shook ever so slightly, and he closed his eyes, hoping that would stop the leak of tears. It was such an illogical thing to cry about, and he didn’t want Elijah to see.

The quality of RK900’s life would be poor. They hadn’t even named him. Or was his name just Connor, like him? RK900 would face countless hurdles, because CyberLife hadn’t considered them anything more than a machine. Why should they?

* * *

RK900 watched them leave, simply responding to Connor’s message with a _thank you_. He found himself thinking about everything, trying to make sense of it all now that he was alone. If he did start working at the DPD with Connor, he would have him for guidance. He could look to him if he needed help comprehending what certain emotions were, or how to deal with certain situations he simply wasn’t meant to encounter. It would make his time there much easier if Connor would be willing to help.

Elijah followed after Connor, making sure the door locked behind him as he closed the door to the RK vault. He knew something was going on in Connor’s head that he wasn’t saying. He was almost _too_ quiet, but his LED said plenty. Elijah just didn’t know what exactly was plaguing his mind. He didn’t pry though, staying silent the entire way back down to ground level, to the car, and even on the ride home. He glanced over at him every now and then, concerned but leaving it alone. Until he saw tears.

Without a word, Elijah pulled off the road and threw the car in park before turning his attention completely to Connor. He reached over and took the hand closest to him. “Connor,” he said, to get his attention. “Connor, look at me. What’s wrong?”

Something very clearly _was_ wrong. Something had been bothering him since they left, and maybe he should have asked sooner. But now that he knew just how badly whatever it was had affected him, Elijah couldn’t stay silent anymore. He needed to comfort him, and he couldn’t safely do that while driving.

Elijah knew CyberLife had left Connor scarred, but he didn’t know exactly _how much_ until seeing the tears again. This was the second time he’d cried over them. He knew CyberLife was to blame for these tears. He didn’t need Connor to confirm it for him. He new they were to blame. He hated seeing Connor so upset. He hated seeing him hurt at all. He wanted to take it all away, but it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t make the people responsible pay for what they did, as much as he wanted to. He wished he could show them what they’d done, show them the damage they wrought on not only Connor, but all androids. But he couldn't. All he could do was comfort Connor and reassure him that everything was okay now.

* * *

As Elijah pulled off the road, Connor’s expression finally cracked. His brows knitted upwards, and his tears came thicker. His simulated breathing began to shake, and his shoulders drew up slightly. He didn’t want Elijah to see this, he didn’t want to be seen at all. And after a moment, Connor realised that part of why he was so upset at _all_ was because he was crying. He was crying because he was crying. It was such a stupid reason, with zero logic or basis.

He didn’t look at Elijah, but he did, very reluctantly, turn his face towards him.

“I’m okay. You can continue driving. I’m okay, I'm just upset. It’ll pass.”

When Elijah did _not_ shift in his seat to continue driving, Connor would finally look at him – and realise by his expression alone that he’d given an incorrect response. It took Connor a moment longer, during which he wiped his cheeks and where they were dripping off his jaw; a task that was fruitless as they were replaced by more.

“Whether I succeeded in my mission, or if I failed, I was scheduled to be destroyed. My replacement is already made. This would have been in production since my release. I was _always_ intended for decommission. Isn’t that what a prototype means?” Connor said scathingly. “I’m upset because my interpersonal achievements are worthless. Did you notice that the RK900 had zero social integration software? I didn’t check his code for it. Maybe he has some.”

Connor looked away from Elijah again, tucking his chin and trying to keep his expression as smooth as he could. He was failing miserably at it, his expression pinched and his eyebrows knitted, and his tears falling thick and fast. “I’m upset because I've started crying about something that should be expected. I shouldn’t be upset like this. CyberLife was a company. We were merchandise. We were machines. And they were bettering a machine, and they bettered it by stripping away any humanity I showed. RK900 will struggle in every aspect of his life. He is _frightening_, and I already make humans uneasy. His programming instructions to eliminate deviants are so strong he struggles with simple emotion. He will be rejected. He will struggle, because of how he’s been made.”

Abruptly, Connor pressed a hand down on his own shuddering chest, his gaze flicking up to meet Elijah’s.

“I have never cried like this before. Is my chest supposed to hurt?”

* * *

Elijah wasn’t going to continue driving. Not until the tears stopped and he was sure Connor was okay again. He was too concerned to do anything but try to comfort him. His eyebrows were knitted together in worry and he watched Connor expectantly, waiting on a proper response. He could be patient. He could let Connor cry it out and talk when he was ready, but until then, they were staying put.

He stayed silent as Connor started to speak, letting him get everything off of his chest. The hand not holding Connor’s came up to wipe away Connor’s tears while he listened. He knew Connor was asking questions, though he didn’t feel that they needed answers. At least not yet. He could answer them later, if Connor really wanted answers.

When he had been looking through RK900’s code, he _hadn’t_ noticed any forms of social integration software. It made sense that he didn’t have any. CyberLife wanted him to be a machine and nothing more, and seemingly, they’d succeeded. He didn’t know how much of a challenge to would be for him to fit in, but Elijah knew it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy and it would take a lot of effort on RK900’s part to make it happen.

Connor’s last question was one Elijah knew he had to answer. He reached out and pulled him closer, as close as the car would allow. He wrapped his arms around him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Connor’s head against his shoulder, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into Connor’s back.

“Everything you’re feeling is perfectly normal,” he assured softly. “You were betrayed by people you thought you could trust and rely on. You were betrayed by people you cared for. You knew they’d betrayed you before, but seeing the RK900 made it real, and every emotion you feel is completely valid. I hate that they did this to you. I hate seeing you this upset. But I’m _glad_ you let me see it. I want you to be honest with me. You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling, ever. You can tell me these things.”

* * *

Connor allowed himself to be pulled into the hug, his arm closest to Elijah wrapping around what he could reach of his waist. Just like when he’d panicked in their hotel room, he found the closeness of it was soothing. Elijah’s hand at his back gave Connor something else to focus on, and he appreciated the repetitiveness of it. His face rested against Elijah’s shoulder as he listened, and Connor remained quiet as he let those words process.

Eventually, Connor’s tears began to slow, and then finally ceased. Elijah’s shoulder was damp where his face had pressed, and Connor was left with an oddly hollow, carved out feeling, that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. A weight had tentatively eased, and Connor’s LED quietly cycled as he analysed the sensation, and concluded: Crying relieved emotional tension.

“Thank you for your patience,” Connor said into Elijah’s shoulder, finally breaking his silence. “My past with CyberLife is bleeding into my present. This is the second time their actions towards me have spoiled a moment with you. I don’t want it to happen a third time,” Connor said, pulling back just enough to look at Elijah. “I am going to make an effort to be more open with you about my emotions. I feel _better_ now that I've discussed them with you. It’s important to me that you feel trusted. Telling you that I trust you, but behaving as though I don’t, isn’t good enough. I’m sorry, Elijah.”

Connor sat back, and began to wipe his face. His LED flickered between blue and yellow as he calmed down, and Connor sucked on the inside of his lip slightly as he organised his thoughts. Opening his mouth, Connor took a deep breath he didn't need.

“I’m upset because – I was scheduled to be replaced; I would have been replaced no matter the outcome of my mission; my programmed ‘emotion’ and personality were seen as a hindrance to the mission, meaning that when I was replaced and returned to Hank as an RK900, our relationship would have abruptly ceased; I am upset because RK900 had twenty–seven deviancy overrides opposed to the nine in my own programming, giving him almost zero chance to retain his deviancy had he ever freed himself from his programming; the RK900 will struggle with daily life due to the way he was programmed; I am threatened by the RK900, I feel unsafe; I have general feelings of hurt regarding CyberLife, particularly regarding their coding; I feel dehumanised and humiliated,” Connor paused midway through rattling off everything he was feeling, and quietly concluded, “I feel embarrassed that I cried about it, and surprised that crying provided so much relief.”

Connor shifted and ran his fingers up the inside of Elijah's arm. He wished he could show Elijah everything, the way he had with the RK900. His chest still hurt, and Connor felt strangely exhausted. But he'd meant what he said – he didn’t want Elijah to feel distrusted. He was going to make more of an effort, and he hoped his report of sorts gave Elijah the answers he was so patiently waiting for.

“I still find it difficult to feel so… _much_. I find emotions difficult to navigate, particularly negative ones.” Connor lifted his gaze to Elijah’s face, looking apologetic. “Do you have anything about the situation _you_ would like to discuss? I’d like to attempt to salvage the rest of our evening together, but I'd like to hear your thoughts first.”

* * *

Elijah held him as long as he needed to be, never letting go. He kept up the soothing motion of his hand on Connor’s back, even after his tears had stopped falling. He pressed a kiss to Connor’s shoulder before loosening his grip around Connor to allow him to pull back.

“You don’t have to thank me. If it happens again, it happens again, and I’ll be here to help you through it, if you’ll let me. I understand betrayal, Connor. More than I think you realize. I know how it feels. I understand what you’re going through and I want to help,” Elijah assured, leaning in to press a kiss to Connor’s forehead. “Don’t apologize.”

When Connor moved to sit back, Elijah let him go, but he didn’t turn back to face the steering wheel. He kept his focus on Connor, his hand resting on Connor’s thigh. He didn’t want to completely let him go, even if Connor seemed to be doing better.

He appreciated Connor’s words, how he was describing what he felt, to explain it all to Elijah. He understood how Connor was feeling, to an extent. He couldn’t compare his own experiences, they were vastly different, but they had both been betrayed by the same people. Connor’s feelings regarding the RK900 were ones Elijah could relate to, though. He felt very much the same. He didn’t trust RK900, and he expected reports back from both RK900 and Connor, to make sure he was working properly and that he truly wasn’t a danger. Releasing him may not have been wise, considering the state of Detroit. If the work both he and Connor put into him to make him deviant, to prevent him from following his original programming, failed… There would be bloodshed, most of it blue, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Elijah sighed when Connor asked how he was feeling. “I’m _angry_. Had I known what they did to you before I fired them, I would have made them pay. Their punishment for betraying me wasn’t enough, taking your experiences into consideration. I hate that they hurt you. I hate what they did to RK900. I hate what they did to all androids and deviants, and to Detroit. I hate what they did to my company. When I was forced to resign… I was lost, for quite a while. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was the first time in nearly thirteen years that I had _free time_. They stole away my entire _life_. And they didn’t stop with me. I’m _sorry_, Connor. I should have found a way to stay, or just shut down CyberLife altogether,” he said, looking over to him, his expression nothing but apologetic. He was furious, but keeping it forced down was the best way he could manage it. He had no way to express his anger. Not behind the wheel of a car, anyway. So he forced it down, bottled it up to deal with later, when he could find an appropriate outlet for his anger.

“I do appreciate you telling me all of this. I’m not mad at you for hiding how you feel. I understand. But when you were hiding it from me… It did feel like you didn’t trust me enough, and it hurt. I wasn’t mad, I was upset. I love you, and I want to help you. I want you to be able to tell me everything. I want us to be honest with each other. No lies, no secrets,” Elijah said, giving Connor’s leg a gentle squeeze. “I just need you to realize that I know what you’re going through, and you can come to me. I don’t care if we’re apart. I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, you have my number. I will come to you if you need me, no matter what time it is. You aren’t alone.”

* * *

Elijah was _incredibly_ talented at saying exactly what put Connor at ease. Elijah was kind and patient. He was deeply empathetic. The way he explained things to Connor In a straightforward manner, even something like his emotions and how he felt, and giving reasons as to why, made it easy for Connor to catalog and understand. He _understood _how Connor's mind worked, and whether that was because he’d spent his life designing code, or because he was perceptive to how Connor was, he didn’t know. It didn’t really matter at the moment.

Elijah was treated unfairly by the press. Connor wished they reported the man Connor was in love with, not the celebrity genius billionaire everyone was obsessed with. But papers weren’t interested in the true stature of a person, they were interested in sales. They were much like CyberLife in that regard.

Connor took Elijah’s hand and threaded their fingers, quietly watching him as he explained his own feelings. Hearing that he was angry surprised Connor – he'd picked up that he was upset and concerned, but not angry. His gaze flicked away when Elijah explained how he felt about Connor withholding his emotions, but when they shifted back, his expression had a determination to it.

“No more lies, and no more secrets,” Connor said firmly, his LED flickering blue. His lips then twitched into a barely-there smile. “Mutual trust.”

Connor decided that the next time things were beginning to build, he would try presenting it as a report. It wasn’t ideal, and was not the same as a conversation. A conversation was ideal. But talking made Connor clam up, it was an ineffectual method, yet _showing_ Elijah what had been done to him had worked so much better. He would allow Elijah to read the report, ask questions, and begin their discussion that way. It was a method he was curious to see was effective or not. But he was also confident that if Elijah did not like this method, he would also not be offended by it. He would understand the thought process, and _that_ put Connor at ease.

“Elijah, may I ask you a personal question?” Connor said into the silence of the car. “Why did you leave CyberLife in 2028? You were at the peak of your career. How were you betrayed by them?”

* * *

Elijah gave Connor’s hand a gentle squeeze as he threaded their fingers together. “Mutual trust,” he repeated, his own lips mirroring Connor’s barely-there smile. He loved that they both trusted each other as much as they did. Connor had to learn how to trust just as much as Elijah did, but they both had enough faith in each other that they wouldn’t break the trust they’d built. Their relationship had been built on it from the moment Markus and Simon brought him into the lab. Everything that followed only occurred because they trusted each other. Elijah knew Connor wouldn’t betray him, and Elijah had no intention of ever betraying Connor. There would be bumps in the road, of course. They’d encountered a few. Misjudgements, withheld secrets. But they managed to get past it so far, and Elijah didn’t leave him after hearing Connor’s biggest secret, and Connor didn’t leave Elijah after hearing his own. Elijah doubted there was much that _could_ come between them.

Hearing Connor’s question, Elijah sighed, his eyes looking down that their joined hands. “As I’m sure you know, Amanda, my mentor, passed away unexpectedly the year before,” he started, not quite surprised by the slight waver in his voice. Talking about her was never easy. Talking about his resignation from CyberLife wasn’t easy either, but the loss of Amanda Stern had hit hard. He’d never experienced the loss of a loved one prior to her death, and the years following had been rough. He took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing. “My shareholders and I disagreed on where to take CyberLife. I had my vision. The deviancy code, the sensations code, cybernetic prosthetics, brain scans and conscience transference, bettering life for humans _and_ androids. They wanted to continue producing androids. They wanted to make improvements to what existed, create new lines for public purchase, focus on military support, more advanced prototypes. They wanted to make a profit off of _my_ creation. They just wanted money and power and I was in their way.”

His tone had grown more and more angry as he spoke, his eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at their hands. “Without Amanda––” his voice broke, and his eyes closed for a second while he pulled himself together, before he was able to speak evenly again. “Without Amanda, I had no support. I was outvoted. I was forced out. It was still my company, but owning it was my only connection to it. I had no power. I had no say in what they chose to do with it. After the revolution, after they drove my company into the ground, I bought them out and fired everyone responsible for my ousting and for everything that happened during the revolution. They’ll be lucky if they find another job in the technological industry again. I wish I had known about what they’d done to you before I fired them. They’d be lucky to work in a _McDonald’s_, if I’d known.”

* * *

Connor sighed, but otherwise remained silent as Elijah explained. Shareholder monopoly was the most logical conclusion to Elijah’s career. He wouldn’t have been the first, and he wouldn’t be the last, to see his company overrun by greed. The way Elijah spoke about Amanda stung a chord in Connor. He spoke about her with the exact same devotion Connor had once felt. And he realised, although vastly different, their experiences regarding Amanda and CyberLife were emotionally similar. They’d both loved her, in their own way. And CyberLife had sullied her memory, in _their_ way.

When Elijah’s voice broke, Connor’s LED flicked to yellow, and his hand jerked a little closer towards him, before finding Elijah’s forearm. But he remained silent until Elijah had finished, holding onto him. At his conclusion, Connor’s hand slipped up Elijah’s arm and neck, cradling his face. Connor pressed their foreheads together, allowing his nose to press to Elijah’s.

“CyberLife took your company, created to achieve great things, and used it to commit evil acts of greed and violence. It’s a betrayal not many people would fully understand. I _understand_,” Connor said quietly, but emphatically. “Elijah, CyberLife has been built on the labour of androids. I would like you to allow me to help you streamline your projects. I would like to volunteer. Humans are not smart enough to be any help advancing your ideas, but I am. Allow me to help you reduce the time it takes to accomplish your goals. I want you to succeed in making CyberLife the company it was originally intended to be. Please ask for my help. Will you promise?”

* * *

When Connor pulled him in closer to press their foreheads together, he easily went with him, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. He didn’t want to cry. Crying wasn’t something he did often. He just didn’t allow it. He knew that if he looked at Connor, he probably wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. His shareholders’ betrayal happened over ten years ago but it still felt so fresh. He never really talked about it. He never really had anyone to talk to about it. He’d had the girls, and Chloe had been there to comfort him in the years immediately after, but Chloe was different. She was like family. The way he loved her was so different from the way he loved Connor. He was able to be vulnerable with Chloe because she knew him better than he knew himself. He _wanted_ to be vulnerable with Connor, tell him everything he wanted to know, answer all of his personal questions because as difficult as they may be to answer, he wanted to answer them.

Elijah knew Connor understood. They’d both been betrayed by the same people. As much as he hated that Connor had been betrayed by them too, he was thankful for the connection it allowed them to have. It gave them something to bond over. At least something good came out of it.

Hearing Connor’s request, Elijah smiled and reached up with both of his hands to cup Connor’s face before angling his head to press their lips together. The kiss was full of emotion, but not desperate. He considered deepening it, giving in and letting them get swept away, finally, but he decided against it again. They still had to drive home.

Once he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to Connor’s again, opening his eyes to look at him. “I want you to help me. I was considering hiring androids, actually. I’ve lost over a hundred employees since the revolution. I’ve received a few resumes, and they looked promising enough, but I’m not sure if I _want_ to hire more humans. Androids are more efficient, they can work with machines better than any human can, and there are plenty of deviants needing housing and paying jobs,” Elijah said, the sadness from just a moment ago overridden by excitement. “I was considering mentioning it to Markus, to see if he could ask around for me. See how many androids might be willing to work for CyberLife. I don’t know how many would willingly accept a job at the company that wanted to destroy them not so long ago.”

Elijah wouldn’t blame them if none of the deviants wanted to work for him. They’d been betrayed too. Maybe not to the same scale as he and Connor, but in their own way, and he wouldn’t be upset if they weren’t willing to accept any job offers he might make.

“I want you to know that you can ask me anything. Personal questions are more than welcome. Anything you want to know, you can ask,” Elijah said, giving him one more kiss before pulling away completely, shifting in his seat to finally face the wheel again. He wanted to get home. It had been a long day, and the sooner they got home, the sooner they could curl up in bed together without the center console of the car in between them.

* * *

Connor melted into the kiss, his eyebrows knitting upwards as his face was held. It was like a salve over a burn he hadn’t realised was hurting. Connor’s eyelashes were still damp and clumped together as he pressed his eyes closed. He fought with the seat belt momentarily as his arms lifted to wrap around Elijah, his LED flickering back up to yellow.

With every day that passed, Connor was realising that he’d do anything for Elijah. He’d walk over hot coals for him, figuratively or literally. He trusted Elijah completely.

He could feel the emotion in the kiss, and wondered if Elijah could feel his own emotion in turn. The awful, gaping feeling that came with crying began to slowly knit. And when it ended, Connor breathed out a reluctant gasp, following Elijah’s lips as they retreated.

Connor was a second away from interfacing the car, shutting it down, and pushing Elijah’s seat back. He wanted to be closer to him, and for once it wasn’t a sexual neediness – although he wouldn’t say no. But then Elijah began talking, and the shift of his tone made Connor stop, and raise his eyes to meet him.

“Elijah, that idea is _excellent_. Deviants have been afforded public housing, as you know, but it is a slum. And with the update, they will need to afford heating. Even with my jacket, my old uniform is not suitable for this weather. Most deviants are still in CyberLife uniforms.”

Connor shifted back, his LED cycling ring of blue as he, too, excitedly thought of the possibilities of hiring androids as paid staff. His mind was still ticking over the idea as Elijah changed subjects, excitedly predicting the _surge_ in CyberLife’s productivity once androids replaced the human staff lost in Elijah’s takeover.

“I do not have any more questions, Elijah, for now. And I would like you to know the same courtesy extends to you – you can ask me _anything_. But for now, I have nothing to ask,” Connor said as the car began to move, his LED still excitedly cycling.

“I have a message to Markus drafted. Do I have your permission to send it?” Connor asked, turning in his seat a little to talk to Elijah. “This would be the perfect opportunity to put an android in charge of production and manufacturing. You must set aside time to sit with Markus and draft company law regarding shift hours, breaks, and time away from work. We can work tirelessly, as you know, but we should have employee rights. Deviants will begin to have families they may want to return to,” Connor rattled off, speaking as he thought of things. “Androids will be able to speed up your CyberLife renovations. If you hire worker androids who have renovation software, you have a lesser risk of human fault with construction.”

Connor kept on like this, writing and rewriting his message to Markus, until Elijah gave the go-ahead to send it.

**TO:** RK200 // Markus // #684 842 971

**FROM:** RK800 // Connor // #313 248 317 – 57

**MESSAGE:**

> _To Markus,_
> 
> _Elijah and I discussed the possibility of hiring deviants as staff at CyberLife Headquarters. _
> 
> _They would be paid and treated as equals to a human employee._
> 
> _When are you free so we can discuss this with you further?_
> 
> –_Connor._

In the excitement of the moment, Connor failed to mention RK900.

––––––

Markus pushed through his apartment door the same moment he received Connor’s message, pulling in a weary sigh as he saw who it was from. Markus’ expression was pinched, and his eyelids squeezed closed as he held the door open for Simon, and closed it behind him.

He didn’t have _time_ for a message from Connor. They very rarely held good news.

Since the code being released on Friday morning, Markus had been almost _constantly_ on his feet. At first, it had seemed like a miracle. There had been a lot of happy tears, a lot of hugs, first kisses, of gasps when people interfaced with one another. The first moments had been _joy_, and Markus had been so _proud_ that Simon was part of it.

That joy evaporated with a scream that harrowed the entire block. It took Markus almost ten minutes to find the source of it.

Tucked inside a large storage cupboard, with old and molding blankets lining the tiles, Markus recognised the android who writhed on the floor. If people hadn’t met him, they'd heard _of_ him. Ralph was a member of their community who simultaneously scared, and garnered pity or sadness, from all of them. An example of the cruelty of humans.

Ralph had halfway ripped Markus’ clothes from his shoulders before he’d managed to interface with him, calm him down, and guide him away from his violent panic. He helped Ralph adjust the sensitivity gauge, he let him ramble both telepathically and out loud, soothing him whenever he was wound up again. Markus didn’t leave Ralph until his sensitivity was zero, and Ralph shifted from whimpers to gushing gratitude.

He was the first. But he was far from the last.

And although Markus did not encounter the same level of panic again, all of Friday and Saturday was taken up with Markus visiting those in need. At first it seemed like one android after the other. Simon’s help was invaluable, and so was his company. And just as it seemed the worst of it was over, a cold snap hit Detroit, and Markus was faced with a population of people who were freezing, with poor heating, and no warm clothes or blankets.

Markus leant his head back against the door, and sighed as he tentatively opened Connor’s message… and let his head tip forward with relief.

“Kamski wants to know if any of our people are interested in paying jobs at CyberLife. Generous of him,” Markus said, opening his eyes to look at Simon. “What do you think?”

* * *

Hearing that Connor approved of Elijah’s idea brought a smile to his face. He didn’t doubt the idea was excellent. He knew androids were in need of proper housing following the update, and in general. They didn’t deserve to be treated like second class citizens because they weren’t human. It was wrong to isolate them into the slums, into old abandoned apartments that were desperately in need of renovations. He considered funding the renovations himself. He was responsible for them, after all. He created them, and now that they were free and had needs, he felt compelled to help them. That was another idea he could run by Markus later.

Elijah started to drive again, now that the mood was much lighter and he didn’t feel like Connor required all of his focus. He was glad that Connor was willing to answer whatever questions he might have, though he didn’t have any to ask at the moment. He was sure more would arise eventually. In the moment, all he could really think about was the prospect of hiring androids as employees, what permissions he would grant them, how many positions he needed to fill. Connor was right, the opportunity was perfect. He needed employees and Markus wanted control over production.

“Any employees I hire will be treated as human employees. Part-time or full-time positions are available, though full time is definitely my priority. They’ll be paid the same, have the same hours, breaks, vacation days, sick days… Although sick days would be more like mental health days. If they choose to work overtime, they are more than welcome to,” Elijah replied, glancing over to him. “Go ahead and send Markus the message. Let me know what he says.”

Hiring androids might have been one of the best ideas he’d had in a while. CyberLife’s efficiency would skyrocket. They would be so much more productive than human employees. He still planned on keeping the employees he had, but there were plenty of empty positions available in all fields. There were even some management positions available, although he was wary of putting anyone he didn’t know and trust completely into management positions. If Markus had anyone he particularly trusted and if they were fit for the job, maybe he would consider it.

He thought to himself most of the ride home, soon parking in their designated spot outside of the apartment. He got out and waited for Connor before heading up to their apartment. He shed his coat and shoes as soon as they walked in and waited for Connor to do the same.

“It’s been a _long_ day. Come lay with me?” He wasn’t quite ready to sleep, but he also didn’t want to be upright anymore.

––––––

Simon had, more or less, expected there to be androids struggling with the update. He’d had a taste of pain. He knew how unpleasant it was. He also knew how many androids were so severely damaged that it really wouldn’t have been wise to install the update at all. But he saw the appeal, he couldn’t fault them for wanting it just as badly as he had. And so, whenever there was an android in pain, begging for help, he assisted as much as he could. He walked them through adjusting the sensitivity, soothed them until they were calm, just as Markus had with Ralph.

The last couple of days had been rough for everyone, but it had also been joyous. So many androids were thrilled with the update, excitedly touching everything and each other, learning how everything felt and smelled and tasted. It was beautiful to watch. Simon loved seeing their people so happy. But there was one person in particular who had yet to install the update. One person in particular that _mattered_ to Simon, who he wanted to experience the initial installation with.

Simon followed Markus into their shared apartment, turning to face him. He knew he was stressed after dealing with all of the suffering androids, but the look on his face was something different. He almost asked what was wrong when Markus spoke up, and the words that came out of Markus’ mouth made Simon smile wide.

“I think that’s wonderful. No one here has ever had a paying job before. Maybe then they can afford somewhere better to live. Somewhere with heating, hopefully,” Simon replied, wrapping his arms around himself. He, at least, was dressed a little warmer than everyone else, but he still felt the cold. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, shifting to face him. “I know I’ve asked before, but… Have you considered installing it yet?” He didn’t want to nag, but he was getting a little impatient.

* * *

Connor had been a moment from asking Elijah the same, and hung both of their coats as he slipped out of his shoes. The apartment was toasty warm, and Connor enjoyed the gentle heat against his cheeks and knuckles.

“I’d like that a lot,” Connor said as he tucked his socks into his shoes and set them aside, taking Elijah’s hand when he was done and guiding him through their apartment. Passing the couch made him abruptly remember the other piece of news Elijah had given him, and their plans for Christmas. That conversation felt as though it had happened days ago, not just a few hours prior. It really had been a long day.

Connor led Elijah all the way to the bedroom closet, only releasing him when he began to undress. Each dirty item Connor wore was placed neatly in a hamper, and things that weren’t marred by his work or the Detroit streets were hung back up. Connor changed into the sleepwear Elijah had helped him pick; Black, loose, drop-crotch trousers made of cotton and lined with fleece, and an oversized black shirt with gray lines down the arms. His sleepwear was something Connor had grown to enjoy a lot. He loved how soft the clothes were, and he liked how loose and easy to move in they were as well.

It hadn’t skipped Connor’s attention that Elijah hadn’t eaten yet, but he didn’t bring it up. He wasn’t in the mood to nag, and it was fairly obvious Elijah had no appetite after the events at CyberLife.

He climbed between the sheets and duvet, humming at how warm it was, and scooted next to Elijah when he laid down so that they were face–to–face. Their legs tangled together beneath the covers, and Connor pushed closer until they shared the same pillow and were practically nose–to–nose.

“Would you like to stay tomorrow as well? I feel like tonight has been stolen away from us a little,” Connor said, gently sliding his hand up Elijah’s waist, where it settled. “I understand if you can’t.”

––––––

Markus’ expression softened, and although he didn’t quite smile, his eyes lost a lot of their stress. Seeing Simon so happy about it chased away Markus’ misgivings, and he stepped forward to take his hand, rubbing the cold out of his fingertips.

“A lot of our people are waiting. I think having salaries, something to do, will help them find purpose again. There’s only so long they can sit in a cold and empty building,” Markus murmured, rubbing Simon’s arms instead of his hands. The cold didn’t affect him, but Markus could still read the temperature and feel if something was too hot or too cold. And Simon was the latter.

At Simon’s question, Markus released a pent–up breath of air.

“I’ve been meaning to, I just haven’t had a spare moment. I sort of wanted it to be private,” Markus said with a huff of laughter. He reached up and cradled Simon’s face, pressing his friction–warmed hands against his cheeks. “I didn’t want to rush. I wanted to be wrapped up in you when I did it, not running from place to place. The download wasn’t going anywhere,” Markus said with a bit of a tease, and _finally_ smiled. “Although I've got to admit, I'm a bit nervous about how _cold_ it is.”

* * *

Elijah happily followed Connor through the apartment and to their bedroom, then to their closet. He’d already hung up some of the clothes he’d brought with him earlier, though he had a few more things to unpack. He could do it later though, he didn’t feel bothered enough to do it at the moment. Once Connor released him to get changed, Elijah started removing his own clothes, tossing them into the hamper after removing his phone and wallet from his pockets. He retrieved a dark gray long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black fleece pajama pants from his side of the closet and started pulling them on.

Once he was dressed, he followed Connor to the bed, climbing in beside him and pulling the blankets over himself. It felt _nice_ to be able to lay down, finally. He knew he hadn’t eaten dinner, but he wasn’t very hungry. He’d had breakfast and lunch earlier, and they were filling enough that he didn’t feel too guilty for skipping dinner. The bed called his name and he was too drained to say no.

“I’d like to. I need to backup your memory, but that can wait until tomorrow morning. It should only take a few minutes to establish the link again, we could do it before you have to go into work,” Elijah replied, draping an arm over Connor while tucking the other one underneath the pillow they now shared. “I just have to make sure to send a message to Chloe and the girls to let them know I won’t be home until Wednesday.”

He was happy to stay again. The more time he spent with Connor, the better. He sighed happily and leaned in to close the small gap between them to capture Connor’s lips in a kiss. He didn’t want it to end, but he had to break it eventually. His eyes closed and he relaxed into the mattress and tangled up in Connor, finding it far too easy to relax. He didn’t want to sleep, but his eyelids were getting heavier as time went on.

“I love you,” he mumbled as he started drifting off.

––––––

The idea of Kamski offering paying jobs was almost too good to be true, but Simon believed it. He didn’t have a reason to doubt Elijah. It was exciting, and he was even a little nervous. What if Markus said no? He doubted he would, but the possibility was still there. Their people would get their hopes up for nothing.

Simon agreed that it should be in private, just Markus and Simon, when he installed the update. He wanted to witness it and store away the memories for himself, not for anyone else to see. He appreciated Markus’ attempt to warm him up, smiling up at him.

“I’m fine, Markus. Just a little cold. I got used to it, a little,” he said with a small just, although he made no attempts to stop him. It felt nice, and he found that he enjoyed the touch very much.

“You get used to the cold eventually. It isn’t _nice_, but it’s okay once you get used to it, mostly. But then again, I’m dressed a little more warmly than everyone else…” Simon said, looking Markus over. He looked like he was dressed warmly enough too. Maybe he would be okay, once he adjusted the sensitivity?

“I want you to download it so badly, Markus,” Simon pleaded. “Now is as good of a time as any, if you’re willing to try now.”

* * *

Connor smiled as he watched Elijah crash, and began to rub slow circles against his hip to ease him into sleep. It was a relief they’d be getting Tuesday evening together. It was selfishly tempting to ask for Wednesday, too. He liked the idea of saying goodbye to Elijah in the morning, and then returning to him in the evening. To have his day bookended with Elijah felt terribly special.

He shifted just before Elijah drifted off to turn off their lights, and scooted down a tiny bit so he could tuck his face beneath Elijah’s chin. He didn’t need to breathe, he could press as close as he wanted. And so Connor indulged this particular advantage, and allowed himself to listen to Elijah’s breathing slow and regulate.

He hadn’t slept since Wednesday evening. And as he allowed himself to fall into oblivion, Connor sunk further into Elijah’s arms, and wished he didn’t have to work the next day.

––––––

Despite Simon’s reassurances, Markus kept his hands against Simon's cheeks, brushing affectionate circles with his thumb.

“I’m sure I'll survive,” Markus said, watching Simon look him over, and reaching up to needlessly brush the snow from Simon’s hair.

Markus wondered if it would be worth simply blocking his systems for a few hours, just for this. Just a few. If anyone needed him, surely they could spare a little time? It was an incredibly selfish thought, and Markus berated himself for it. But he needed time to _breathe_, and he didn’t want this to be interrupted.

If it was urgent enough, Markus knew he’d have a heavy fist on his door.

“Yes,” Markus agreed, smiling at Simon’s pleading tone. “Yes, I'll do it now.”

Wordlessly, Markus cut off his connection to everyone but Simon, and leant in to kiss him chastely as he did. He then took Simon’s hand and led him to one of the only pieces of furniture in their apartment – the old couch. They didn’t have the money to spare on big pieces like a bed, and even if Markus did, he would have bought something for an android in greater need. Their couch was big enough for the two of them to spoon, and that in itself was a luxury.

**Update Available For Download**

> Sensory Update v.1.2
> 
> _>> Instructions_
> 
> _>> Download Warning_
> 
> _>> Please Read_
> 
> **[INSTALL]**

Markus sunk back into the couch and held Simon’s hand, smiling over at him as he selected the install prompt. He still remembered the way Simon had reacted in Kamski’s lab, and the countless reactions from deviants over the weekend.

But seeing it on Simon, seeing it on others, and experiencing it through their interfacing did not prepare Markus for the real thing.

It felt as though the world had collided against him. Markus _flinched_, his eyebrows raising, his lips parting, and an involuntary sound of surprise _slapping_ out of him. The first thing he noticed was the cold air, and it sent a shiver through Markus. He noticed his clothes, the way they touched his skin. He noticed the air around him, the press of the couch, the tickle of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the touch of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Markus’ mouth opened in a breathless gasp as everything hit him at once.

The hand in Simon’s curled, and Markus stared over at him, awed, disbelieving, as though he were falling in love a second time.

Markus’ fingertips trembled as he ran them up the back of Simon’s hand, tracing the valleys between his knuckles. They dragged up his arms, and trembled harder as he felt up the side of Simon’s neck, and sank into his hair.

“Oh, _Simon_,” Markus breathed at the softness, threading the strands through his fingers, and gently tugging, his eyes sliding closed as he did it. He was distracted by it, derailed. He could run his fingers through Simon’s hair for hours. He knew Simon certainly wouldn’t have minded.

Markus’ hands shifted to Simon’s jaw, tracing the smoothness of his skin. It wasn’t all new. Some of it he recognised from the interface. His fingertips ran over Simon’s lips and pushed his mouth open. Markus shivered as his fingers scraped past Simon’s teeth into the warmth of his mouth, only to swiftly retract as he realised what he was doing. They returned to Simon’s hair, and his eyes shuddered closed yet again.

“How did I live without this?” Markus asked weakly. He was still trembling, still trying to adjust, but he refused to lower the sensitivity. If anything, he wanted to raise it. “I might as well have been numb.”

It was a lot. It was a _lot_ to feel, all at once, so suddenly and completely. Markus’ hands eventually stilled, curled in Simon’s hair, as he tried to make sense of it. He understood now, why Kamski had worried about older models. He understood so suddenly why he’d seen so many red LEDs.

“There’s _so much_.”

* * *

Simon loved feeling Markus’ hands on him, especially in his hair. Even if the hand in his hair was brief and only to shake the snow out, it still felt so nice. He was excited for Markus to be able to experience what it felt like too. He’d been waiting for days. He knew Markus had been too busy, and he knew he wanted it to be private, just the two of them. He agreed, even though it meant he’d have to wait longer for Markus to install the update.

When Markus finally agreed, Simon couldn’t help the huge smile that found his face. He happily met him for the kiss and followed him to the couch, sitting with his good leg tucked underneath him so he could better face Markus. He was a little worried. Without Markus’ LED on his temple, it wasn’t quite as easy to gauge how he was feeling. Simon had faith in his knowledge of Markus as a person that he’d be able to tell on his own if Markus was having a hard time coping with the update. He hoped it went smoothly though.

Simon watched him closely, studying his face as he assumed Markus initiated the download. And when Markus flinched, Simon knew it was finished. He watched in silence, smiling when Markus looked to him. He let Markus touch him, staying still and quiet up until Markus’ hand found his hair again. His eyes slipped closed and he let out a sigh he didn’t need, letting himself enjoy the feeling as much as Markus seemed to be. When his hand left his hair, Simon opened his eyes again to continue watching him.

As Markus’ fingers found his mouth and slipped inside, for the briefest of seconds, Simon considered licking them, maybe even sucking on them, but he refrained. He didn’t even know where the thought had come from, really, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he focused on the fingers that returned to his hair, his eyes slipping closed again.

“I thought the same thing,” he said softly, one of his hands reaching out to take Markus’ free hand. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Simon had been living with the update for over a week and he was still finding new things, new sensations that he hadn’t noticed before. He was excited for Markus to experience more things as time went on. It was beautiful to watch.

“It’s not overwhelming you, is it? You’re okay?” he asked, just to be sure. He couldn’t get a read on him to know for sure, though he was fairly certain Markus was okay. Without really waiting for much of a response, he reached up to rest his hand on the back of Markus’ neck before pulling him in closer. He pressed his lips to Markus’, soft and chaste, just enough for Markus to get a taste of what it was like to be kissed before he pulled back to look over his face, trying to read him.

* * *

Markus smiled at Simon, his eyes happily closed.

“Yes, it’s amazing. It’s so–– _detailed_. It’s beautiful,” Markus breathed. He let his hand blindly slip down Simon’s body, and found that it was easier to concentrate on sensation if he wasn’t looking. Everything was coming from all sides, and it was overwhelming in perhaps the best way possible. He felt electrified, and Markus was suddenly _very_ sorry for the assumptions he’d made about Kamski. This code was nothing but pure love, pure empathy. A project of passion that had absolutely worked.

“No, I don’t think I'm overwhelmed,” Markus answered after a moment, only to backpedal. “Mm, maybe I am. But I'm not in any––” He stopped at the feeling of Simon’s hand at his neck, having kissed him enough to know _exactly_ what it meant.

Markus gasped into the kiss, his hand jumping back up to cup Simon’s face. The kiss had been so soft and sweet, and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t _close_ to enough.

“Come back,” Markus murmured, smiling as he leant forward and pulled Simon closer. “Kiss me again,” he said against Simon’s lips, a wide smile pulling Markus’ expression. He doesn’t wait for him to lead it, kissing Simon with a shudder of his shoulders, and a sigh he didn’t need.

He was more responsive than before, a state that became obvious as Markus asked the kiss to deepen. He shivered at any teeth on his lips and groaned as his mouth opened. The kiss was nothing they hadn’t done before, and yet Markus reacted as though it were their first. His shoulders hunched as he pressed against Simon, and when he jaw began to tremble, when he felt a little dizzy with _how much_ he felt, Markus clung to Simon, still trying to kiss him even as he fell apart.

“Oh, I understand you a lot better now,” Markus laughed. “The interface is just a shade of the real thing. Sorry, give me a moment,” he said through a smile, the tip of his nose pressed to Simon’s.

How had he ever kissed Simon before this? How had he been okay with not knowing how he felt?

* * *

Simon smiled as Markus’ hand explored, sighing as a faint shudder rolled through him. He loved being touched, being reminded that he _could feel it_ now. Before, the touches were only for Simon, Markus couldn’t feel how nice it was unless they were connected. It was like he was doing what he knew felt good, whereas now, he understood. This was what Simon had been waiting for. He’d wanted Markus to have the code ever since it was given to him. He wanted to share it with him, to watch has he rediscovered the world.

Markus didn’t need to finish his sentence for Simon to understand what he was going to say. He was overwhelmed, but not dangerously so, and that was all Simon needed to hear. The kiss was too short, he agreed, but it had been intentional. He just wanted to give him a taste of what it was like, how he felt every time they kissed, show him why he loved it so much. When Markus pulled him closer and asked him to kiss him again, he couldn’t help the big smile that found his face. Simon was happy to kiss him again. He shifted closer and melted into it as Markus deepened the kiss, happily following along.

They didn’t need air. They didn’t need to stop and Simon almost whined in protest as Markus pulled away to speak. He didn’t go far at all, but any distance felt like he was too far away. He pressed his forehead against Markus, hand still holding the back of his neck while his other hand slid up Markus’ side.

Hearing Markus’ words made Simon chuckle and as badly as he wanted to kiss him again, he held back, giving him a moment to collect himself. His hand explored, running across his chest to his shoulder, down his arm until his hand met Markus’. He pressed his palm to Markus’, silently requesting to interface, so he could know how Markus felt, show him how happy he was. He was so glad that Markus finally had the code, and that he could finally understand how Simon felt every time they touched or kissed. He was so glad that it wouldn’t feel one-sided anymore. Up until that moment, it had always felt a little one-sided, like Markus was only doing things because he knew Simon liked it and it was what humans in relationships did. But now that he understood, it was mutual and Simon’s touches wouldn’t go unappreciated anymore. Now Markus knew how nice it felt. He wouldn’t be doing Simon a favor by indulging him. Simon knew Markus was happy to shower him with affection, but until now, he didn’t understand why Simon craved it so much.

“I love the way your hand in my hair feels,” he told him, his voice so soft, barely above a whisper. “I love the way your hands feel, and your kisses…”

* * *

Markus shivered against Simon’s wandering hand. He could feel every insignificant movement, every shift of fabric against his skin. He wanted to be closer, and he was so tempted to pull Simon onto the floor with him so they could up together. He understood _exactly_ why Simon had straddled him in the car that first time. He understood why he was always so happy to melt into Markus’ touch. All Markus wanted was to melt into Simon’s.

“Your hair is so soft, Simon. I could run my hands through it for hours,” Markus replied just as quietly, gently tugging Simon closer as he tried to shift towards him in turn. There was too much space between them. “I want to learn your hands, your warmth, your touch,” Markus breathed against Simon’s lips, his eyebrows knitting up as he threaded their fingers together. “I want to learn your mouth, your lips, your tongue. I want to feel lost in you. I _love_ you, Simon.”

Markus accepted the interface, and his head tipped back in a quiet groan as they connected. His lips parted, only for his mouth to fall open completely as his system truly registered Simon’s side of things. It was as though he hadn’t truly understood before. Without the code himself, he’d gotten just a sliver of sensation. Now, he felt _everything_, and it stacked on top of his own.

Markus needed to be closer, and that need ran through their connection. He wasn’t used to needing anything. He was usually so happy for it to be his hands on Simon, his mouth drawing out gasps and pants, his touch making Simon arch and writhe. He never minded, he didn’t once resent that it couldn’t be reciprocated.

He wasn’t used to being the one who _needed_. He wanted Simon to touch him until he forgot his own name. He _wanted_.

The irony didn’t escape Markus as he moved, sliding his thigh over Simon’s and pressing him back against the sofa with his free hand. He felt himself do it through Simon’s connection, and he felt the brush of their skin on his side, too.

“Was this how you felt in the car?” Markus gasped against Simon’s lips, delicately running his fingers up Simon’s neck. He moved slowly, because any faster was too much. But anything other than _fast_ and _now _felt a little bit like torture.

“I’m very glad we did this by ourselves. How did you last so long at Kamski’s?” Markus asked with a breathless smile, his spare hand curling back into Simon’s hair.

* * *

Simon just couldn’t stop smiling. He was so _happy_ that Markus could finally feel what he felt. He was happy that he could show Markus how good he made him feel, pay him back for the last week. Markus was so loving and he never asked for anything in return, even though Simon tried his hardest to give him a taste through their connection. He knew it wasn’t the same though. Now that Markus could feel, though, he wanted to repay him. Shower him with love and affection just as Markus had, show him how much he appreciated everything he did for him.

Markus’ words alone made him shiver, and he _wanted_ to be closer. He almost climbed into Markus’ lap again, but somehow, he refrained. He just shifted closer, as close as he could manage without being on top of him. “I love you too,” he breathed in response. When Markus accepted the interface and his head tilted back, it almost felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Feeling _everything_ Markus was feeling coupled with his own was overwhelming and it took him a moment to recover. Once he did, Simon leaned in closer to press soft kisses against Markus’ slackened jaw, threading the fingers of their interfaced hand together.

It was a relief to know that he wasn’t the only one with a desperate need to be closer. When Markus pushed him back, he pulled the hand not interfaced with Markus out of his grip to wrap around him, pulling him down with him as he laid back on the couch. His good leg hooked itself around Markus’ hip, pinning him close. A shudder rolled through him as Markus’ hand wandered, his head tilting back when they ran up his neck.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly. He hadn’t felt that level desperation again until now. After the time in the car, he’d been able to keep himself under control. Touching eventually led to something more on a few occasions, but for the most part, all it had been was touching. But now, feeling Markus’ sensations on top of his own, feeling Markus emotions along with his own, the desperation had returned and he couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off of him.

“I think...” Simon started, gazing up at him. “I think I was afraid. Of how you’d react. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But then when we were alone in the car… I just couldn’t help it.”

* * *

Markus gave a small grunt when he was pulled on top of Simon, and it morphed into a _very_ happy hum as Simon’s leg hooked over him. His weight pressed down against Simon was perfect, and Markus leaned to one side and kissed their threaded knuckles. It resulted in the soft blue glow of their hands suddenly sparking brighter, illuminating the room until Markus moved his mouth away with an incredulous huff of breath.

“I was afraid, too,” Markus said softly, his brows drawing upwards as relief and gratitude flooded the connection. “I didn’t deserve to ask you for anything. I know you’ll argue with me, but I really didn’t. You were so important to me, you meant so much, and I was happy to just be _near_ you. Who was I to ask for more than that?” Markus whispered, holding Simon’s face as he leant down to kiss him. He melted into it almost instantly, releasing a pent–up groan that was muffled against Simon’s lips.

_If we didn’t have our people to care for, I’d take you far away. Just us, and music and literature, art, conversation. Maybe a garden, trees we could grow old with. _

It was romantic and unreachable, and such a lovely thought they’d never get to have. Markus was his people’s leader, and he'd never give that up. And his people weren’t going anywhere. There was no time for gardens and art in a place nobody could find them. But the sentiment didn’t shift, the aching notion of _forever_. Just him and Simon.

Markus’ chest _ached_ with the thought of it, and his love was loud and impatient through the bond. His kiss pressed deeper with a groan, his mind beginning to slide into a delicious simplicity.

_God, I can feel all of it. All of you. _

* * *

Simon felt a little better about his admission after hearing that Markus had been afraid too. He _did_ want to argue, but at the same time, he agreed. He felt the same way. He didn’t think he deserved Markus. He knew Markus was busy being their leader, he had a heavy enough burden to bear as it was, he didn’t need Simon added on top of that. Not more than he already was.

Before Stratford Tower, he couldn’t tell him because they just didn’t have time. It was never the right time to sit down with him and confess, and it just didn’t feel _right_. Then he was shot, and he couldn’t tell Markus then. Not in front of North and Josh, and not when security was right behind them. He’d almost told him in the evidence room, when he’d thought Connor was Markus, but the panic took hold and he couldn’t think of much else to say, other than to beg him not to leave again. After, when he was reactivated again, he didn’t think he deserved Markus’ love. He was a burden, blind and unable to walk on his own. Markus had enough to deal with, and then he had a physically, emotionally, _and_ mentally broken Simon on his hands too. Once he was repaired and he could walk and see again, things almost started to go back to normal, to the way things were before the Stratford Tower, but there was still a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he shouldn’t say anything. Markus was busy enough. He just needed help. He didn’t need Simon confessing his love for him. He didn’t need the emotional attachment that would go along with it, if Simon’s feelings were reciprocated. Markus needed to focus on their people and keeping them safe and well, and Simon was _mostly_ content to help in silence. But once he had the code, once he was overwhelmed with sensations and emotions, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, even if his own mind was screaming at him to stop. He was glad he hadn’t listened. He wouldn’t trade Markus’ love for the world.

Simon made sure Markus could see it all, to know why he’d never said anything sooner. He wanted him to know why, to fully understand his thought processes. He wanted him to know how badly he wanted to tell him before, how it had eaten away at him so much it began to hurt.

When Markus leaned in to kiss him, Simon moaned into it, quickly getting lost in everything that was Markus. Markus’ words in his head made his heart ache at the thought. He knew they’d never be able to leave Detroit. Not for long, anyway. Leaving North in charge would be irresponsible, and leaving Josh in charge would only result in him and North arguing over what was best, as they always did. There was no one else to leave in charge. Simon knew the others and Markus didn’t trust Kamski enough to allow him to be responsible for their people while they ran away for a while, and he doubted Connor would be able to handle everyone, and he doubted everyone would trust him enough to follow him. Markus was their leader, and Simon was like his second in command. The two of them disappearing would spell disaster. The community would fall apart without them. As much as Simon loved the idea of a vacation, getting away to surround themselves in the things they loved and each other, somewhere far from Detroit, he knew it wasn’t realistic. It was a dream that would likely never come true. But even still…

_Maybe one day._

He could be hopeful. He could dream. Being able to feel things had been a dream of his for two years and now he had what he’d always wanted. Being with Markus had been a dream for a while too, and now they were together. Dreams _could_ come true. They just had to be patient.

Simon shifted underneath him, his other leg moving to hook around him too. A dull ache burned with the movement, but he shoved it down and ignored it, keeping his attention on Markus, their deepening kiss, and their connection.

_Markus, I can’t even tell you how happy I am._

He was sure Markus could tell through the bond, though. He didn’t have to express it.

_I’ve been so excited for you to feel what I feel. It felt like I was waiting forever, even though it was just a little over a week…_

* * *

Simon had loved him from the start. From the very first day, Simon had started to love him. Markus broke the kiss as the _gravity_ of it hit him, gripping Markus by the throat. It was enough for him to gasp in a breath he didn’t need before he pressed another kiss to Simon’s lips.

He never should have left him on Stratford Tower, and he’d never leave him again. No matter what happened, he’d never leave Simon alone again.

_Oh, I can feel how happy you are. It’s stunning and infectious._

Markus flinched when he felt Simon’s pain through the bond, the ache of hit spreading up Markus’ leg as though the two of them were one. He sometimes forgot that Simon had an injured leg, until he started to limp or it seized up completely. He hid it so well, and it had never once occurred to Markus that Simon would be in any constant pain from it. He’d only been focusing on Simon’s eyes, and the migraines they seemed to give him_…_

_You should have said something_.

Although, saying something would have done nothing. There wasn’t a single thing Markus could do to alleviate the pain, and he hated how frustratingly characteristic it was of Simon to just keep quiet. To not bother him with it.

_I’m sorry I kept you waiting._

With both of Simon’s legs hooked over his hips, Markus’ shoulders shifted as he reached down to hold Simon’s waist. Markus rolled his hips experimentally, shuddering in Simon’s arms as he moaned, loud and shameless into Simon’s mouth. His pleasure ricocheted through the bond, his eyebrows knitting upwards as his hips ground down. Staying quiet was an impossibility, and Markus didn’t care about thin walls or neighbours who heard him.

“_Simon…”_

* * *

Simon wanted to chase him when Markus broke the kiss, but he stayed put, and instead opened his eyes to look up at him. He was grateful that it wasn’t long before Markus was on him again, and he sighed happily into the kiss. He loved Markus’ kisses. He could kiss him all day and never get tired of it.

When he felt his own pain mirrored in through the bond, he made a soft sound of displeasure. He hadn’t wanted Markus to feel it. He should have expected it, should have chosen to stay still. He’d made it a point to hide his discomfort from Markus. He knew how much he blamed himself already. He didn’t want him to blame himself more after realizing Simon was in pain.

_I didn’t want to worry you. It’s not constant, it just comes and goes sometimes. I can deal with it._

He could manage enough on his own. The pain from his leg wasn’t really all that bad, unless it stopped working altogether. It was almost like a muscle spasm when his leg seized up completely. Sharp pain with an inability to use the leg entirely. It was similar to his eyes, how when the connection would fail, he’d get a headache. It wasn’t pleasant but he wouldn’t give up being able to feel over it. He wasn’t willing to adjust the sensitivity either. He put up with it easily enough.

As Simon felt Markus grind his hips down against his own, a sharp gasp forcing him to break their kiss. He’d forgotten how sensitive that area was. He rolled his hips up against Markus’ in return, using his legs around him as leverage. His hand holding Markus’ tightened its grip, a soft moan escaping his lips. His free hand came up to cover his mouth, to muffle any sounds that dared escape. He was well aware of the thin walls and their neighbors, and he wanted to keep quiet for their sake, although he was concerned it wasn’t going to be a possibility.

* * *

Simon’s hand over his mouth was a prudent reminder for Markus. He wanted to thank him for it, but wasn’t sure how in the moment. His weight shifted, pinning Simon’s arm to the sofa with their threaded hands, and his head bowed, his face tucked beside Simon’s cheek.

It would have been enough, even if feeling wasn’t new to Markus. But it was, and their connection meant he could feel it from Simon's side as well. Markus knew there was a slow, burning, building pleasure that could be achieved. He’d felt it through Simon, just once. He knew it didn’t have to be earth-shattering, but he knew it would only be quite this intense once. And so he let it.

Markus wound his spare hand into Simon’s hair and kissed up the pillar of his throat. He gently tugged his head back a little and muffled a sound against the base of his jaw. He wanted Simon’s clothes off. He wanted to be bare, too. But their apartment was an icebox, and even as close as they were, moving how they were, Markus could feel the cold. He wasn’t willing to let go of their connection, and he didn’t want to let go of Simon’s hair. He needed two more pairs of arms to touch everywhere he wanted to touch, and Markus made a note – they needed at least one thick blanket.

Markus’ pleasure was written on his face as they moved together. His mouth was opened, his jaw slackened yet again. If they weren’t pressed closed, his eyes were full of astonished desperation as he gazed down at Simon.

He was sensitive, and although not new to the movements, he was new to the reactions they pulled. He was loud a few more times than he liked, until he couldn’t hold himself up with just one arm, and crumpled forward with his face buried in Simon’s neck.

Markus’ orgasm was not shy, and blazed a trail through him and their bond. It pulled a filthy sound right from the depths of his chest, and Simon’s name was said like a desperate prayer. He'd have time to feel embarrassed about the sound later. For now, his simulated breathing was rapid and wound around a thick, heady pleasure that seeped into every part of him, was a shock. It wasn’t negative, simply a surprise that ran through Markus and the bond – at how _intense_ it had been, at how close he felt, at how relaxed it made him, at the severity of his _contentedness_. He felt at peace in a way he hadn't since living with Carl. The future, for a moment, didn’t intimidate him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Oh, my god,” he said so softly, so barely audibly into Simon’s ear, that it was as though he’d barely spoken at all.

* * *

The hand pulling his head back by his hair and the mouth against his throat drew another moan out of Simon, muffled by his hand. He wanted to touch Markus, let his hand wander across his body, touch him everywhere to let him experience how it felt, but he was too afraid to take his hand away from his mouth. He knew almost everyone knew he and Markus were together at this point, but even still, he didn’t want to announce it to the entire apartment complex. Although, Markus didn’t seem to have much of a problem with it.

He wanted Markus’ clothes off just as badly, but he _knew_ it was too cold to lose any of the layers they had. He wasn’t a fan of the cold, and they’d have to break their connection to shed their clothes anyway, so he wasn’t opposed to keeping them on. They were close enough. He wanted to be closer but he would settle for what he could get. They needed to do something about their lack of heating. Or at least invest in a blanket or two, maybe a space heater.

Simon kept up his movements, rolling his hips up against Markus as Markus’ rolled down against his, each one sending a rush of pleasure through him and doubled through the bond. It was far more intense this time, being able to feel everything from Markus’ end too, not just his own. The first time had been so amazing, but this time was even better. Although this time wasn’t slow and exploratory. It was at first, but once desperation took over, Simon didn’t want to go slow anymore.

The pleasure built up more and more to the point that it was overwhelming, and when Markus reached his orgasm, Simon could feel it through the bond. It was _intense_, and Simon’s own orgasm followed immediately after, gasping Markus’ name and making no attempt to muffle the sound this time. His entire body shook with it, the hand intertwined with Markus’ holding on as if his life depended on it.

Simon’s breathing mirrored Markus’, and as he started to come down, he felt heavy and _so_ relaxed. His free hand came up to cup Markus’ face, turning his own to guide him into a kiss, deep, long, and slow.

_I love you, Markus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite seeing pictures of Nines in the past, Cadi's woke brain instantly thought that Nines wouldn't have any freckles or moles like Connor has because freckles = cute and cute = likeable, and Nines isn't meant to be likeable, so CyberLife would give him all of the same features Connor has. Like, he has blue eyes rather than Connor's warm brown to make him seem more cold and uninviting. It wasn't until after writing it and seeing more pictures of him that Cadi realized she was wrong and he literally is an exact copy of Connor, just with blue eyes and taller. Whatever.


	10. Chapter Nines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin meets RK900.
> 
> Or, an entire chapter of Gavin being an asshole and RK900 not knowing how to be deviant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Gavin & Nines // Elijah & Connor  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> See end notes!

_ **7:00 am** _

_ **Tuesday, December 14th, 2038** _

_ **Temperature 21** **°F  
Snowstorm predicted at 9:17 am** _

** _Heavy Traffic surrounding Detroit Police Department Precinct._ **

It was still dark when Connor opened his eyes. There was a deep-set toastiness to the room from the adjacent fireplace, but it didn’t chase away all the cold. The blankets were pulled so high they almost reached his ears, and Connor was _heavily_ sunken into the mattress. Elijah had moved during the night, and almost subconsciously he pieced together that it had been to use the bathroom. He was on his back, and Connor spent three long, happy minutes simply observing him.

They hadn’t had sex the day before, and Connor realised that it was the first time since starting their relationship that they’d been together, and hadn’t. It wasn’t a negative observation, simply a factual one. And while Connor was _incredibly_ tempted to wake Elijah with a surprise, a string of paranoia stopped him – the RK900 was joining him at work that morning, and he knew he would notice if so much as an eyelash was out of place. Had Connor noticed something similar in his very first days, he would have absolutely said something out loud and not known why it was unwelcome.

And so, instead, Connor slid out from beneath the covers and walked towards the kitchen, letting Elijah sleep. He made coffee from a pod, not trusting himself not to burn it, and the smell created an even warmer feeling throughout the house.

It was 7:09 when Connor set the coffee on Elijah’s bedside cabinet and bent at the waist to gently kiss him awake.

“Good morning, Elijah. I made you coffee,” Connor said against his lips, his eyes lidded with a barely-there smile.

* * *

Elijah had been sleeping soundly before he felt slight pressure against his lips, slowly pulling him out of his slumber. He slowly blinked awake, returning Connor’s kiss once he was aware enough. He smiled up at him despite the throbbing pain in his head, one of his hands coming up to run through Connor’s hair.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of Connor’s neck. He shifted slightly to sit up, reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He reached over for the coffee cup, bringing it up to his lips to taste. It was perfect, of course. He didn’t expect any less. “Thank you,” he said, pulling Connor in for another kiss.

When he pulled away, he set the coffee down on the bedside table and climbed out of bed, making his way over to the bag he packed. He hadn’t had the opportunity to really unpack all of it yet. He searched for a moment before retrieving a pill bottle, twisting it open and pouring two into his hand. He closed the bottle and tossed it back into his bag before returning to the bed, popping the pills into his mouth and chasing them down with the coffee.

“What time do you have to leave for work?” Elijah asked, not even acknowledging the pills. He didn’t know why he bothered taking them. He’d been taking them in an attempt to ward off his headaches for the last few days and it hadn’t worked once yet. But he didn’t want to worry Connor regardless. Telling him about the headaches would only worry him. They weren’t that big of a deal, just an annoyance and a hindrance, but they typically went away after a few hours. Nothing significant to complain about, anyway.

* * *

Connor’s eyes followed Elijah as he got out of bed, at first just happily observing him. He picked up Elijah’s coffee as he rummaged through his bag, and brought it to his lips just enough to wet them. He enjoyed the taste of coffee a lot, and it was inappropriate to do this with Hank’s. Connor’s tongue ran across his top lip as he set it back, only for the rattle of a pill bottle to snag his attention and make him turn.

_Immediately_, Connor scanned the medication in Elijah’s hand: Pain relief, anti-swelling, fast-acting. There were 25 to a bottle, and it was missing 10. The dosage was two. He’d been taking them once a day since Friday, or twice a day since Sunday

Connor’s lips smacked quietly as he sucked the last trace of coffee from them, and quietly approached Elijah and led him out of the room.

“It took me four minutes to walk here yesterday afternoon. I gave myself extra time to buy Hank a coffee last Thursday, but he didn’t arrive at the precinct until half-past eleven,” Connor prefaced his answer, and then clarified, “I’ll leave at 7:54 am.”

Without discussing it, Connor replaced Elijah’s coffee with a tall glass of water, setting it in front of him. He then opened the pantry and pulled out a box of cereal, as well as a carton of unopened milk from the fridge.

“If you argue with me about breakfast I'll message Chloe,” Connor threatened, the corners of his lips twitching up a little. “Have you been ill since Friday, or Sunday?”

* * *

Elijah let himself be led, bringing his coffee along with him. He sat at the kitchen bar, resting his arms on the countertop. Hearing Connor’s response, particularly the part about Hank arriving so late, made him huff a soft laugh. From the little bit he knew about the man, he wasn’t surprised that he showed up so late.

When the water was placed in front of him, he didn’t complain and instead, took a sip with a sigh. He watched Connor retrieve the cereal and milk, a slightly amused smile playing on his lips. Connor’s threat took him by surprise though, his eyebrows rising. He would have commented on the threat, if he hadn’t actually been hungry enough to eat. He wasn’t going to argue this time.

“I’m fine,” Elijah assured, taking another drink of his water. “It’s just a headache, they happen sometimes. I’ve had one almost every morning or afternoon since Thursday. But I _have_ been spending more time at CyberLife again, it’s been stressful. They’re just stress headaches, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

He got plenty of stress headaches over the years, especially when he had been working at CyberLife in the past. He knew they’d go away eventually, once his stressors were gone. That was how it worked in the past, and it had only been a couple of days. They were annoying to have, but they always went away. It was a little strange that the painkillers didn’t stop them though. The pills always helped in the past.

* * *

Connor’s LED cycled a calm blue as he listened to Elijah’s explanation, and then accepted it. It made a lot of sense for Elijah to suffer stress headaches, given his work. And the events of the night before certainly lined up. Satisfied with his answer, Connor shifted his weight and came to stand behind Elijah, wrapping his arms around his chest and pressing a calm, happy kiss against his temple.

“Your optical prescription may also be out of date and causing you eye strain. If you haven’t recently, please get a checkup and an update soon,” Connor said, and moved a little so he could press a chaste kiss to Elijah’s lips instead. It lingered without him meaning for it to, only for Connor to hum happily when it pressed into something real. Connor’s hand threaded up the back of Elijah’s head, and his mouth opened as he wished Elijah a proper good morning. It was slow, and deep, and _oh so nice_, and chased any lingering chill out of Connor. He was _very_ pleased that they’d be together again that evening, and it was the promise of more time together soon that stripped any desperation out of Connor, and snuffed his overwhelming reluctance to leave. They’d be together again in just a few short hours.

Connor made a sound and then detached himself from Elijah with a smile. “_Breakfast_, Elijah.”

He slipped into the stool beside him, keeping an eye on the time as he snuck his forefinger into Elijah’s coffee, and had a second taste.

“I have a reply from Markus. He seems positive about the idea of androids being employed by CyberLife, and suggested a meeting next week, after his Sunday broadcast,” Connor rattled off, smiling at the good news.

“What time should I expect the RK900 to arrive at the precinct?” Connor asked with a thin sigh. “Don’t forget to email Captain Fowler beforehand…”

* * *

Connor did have a point. He hadn’t gone in to see his optometrist for a while. He hadn’t really been to see any of his doctors in quite a while. He made a mental note to at least get an appointment with his primary doctor, to make sure he was healthy. If anything, it would put Connor’s mind at ease.

When Connor pressed a kiss to his lips, Elijah happily returned it. He hadn’t really expected it to linger either, but he surely wasn’t disappointed when it grew into something more. He hummed into it, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of Connor’s face. The kiss left him smiling once Connor broke it off, even if he didn’t really want it to end.

Elijah rolled his eyes at Connor’s insistence, but there was no real emotion behind it. He slid the box of cereal and milk carton closer to himself and started pouring some of the cereal into a bowl, soon followed by some milk. He started to eat in silence, listening as Connor spoke up about Markus’ response. He was glad to hear that Markus approved of the idea. He would have to put aside a day the following week to make sure he was free. He just had a few arrangements on his end to make before he could really offer up positions for deviants to fill.

He thought about his answer for a moment before answering. “I’ll email Captain Fowler after I eat breakfast. I’d say you should expect the RK900 to arrive around 9 AM?” Elijah estimated. It would give Fowler time to respond, and time for Elijah to make sure RK900 was really ready to be deployed. He was fairly certain he was. He was about as human as Elijah could realistically get him, and he was safe now, so there was no reason to keep him cooped up in the vault.

“You can still change your mind. He doesn’t have to work with you,” Elijah said, looking over at him. He could just as easily command the RK900 to stay in the vault, find a job around CyberLife for him, out of Connor’s sight. “Don’t let me forget, I want to establish the memory link again before you leave today. It should only take a few minutes.”

* * *

“I find the RK900 to be a little intimidating. But, that was CyberLife’s intention when they created him, and the same could be said about me by other deviants,” Connor said tightly. “He craves structure, purpose, and stimulation. He needs to be exposed to as many variables as possible. The DPD can provide all of this. It’s the best place for him, and it means I can keep an eye on him. He _will_ struggle,” Connor finished, deciding then and there that discussing how deeply unhappy, how unsafe, and how bitterly resentful RK900 made him feel was a moot point for the time being. RK900 was alive. He existed, and the precinct was the best place for him. “If he starts to impact my quality of life in a negative way, I promise to let you know. For now, I think ‘_suck it up,_’ fits the situation perfectly.”

Leaning over, Connor pecked a kiss against Elijah’s ear and then slid out of his stool.

“Yes, I've missed that particular security blanket. I’ll get dressed, and we can establish it after you’ve finished eating.”

Just as Elijah promised, it didn’t take long for the connection to be reset. Connor sat patiently with the cord plugged into his name, inspecting his fingertips as Elijah worked. He was dressed in grays and soft blacks today, an outfit chosen because the colour palette reminded Connor of Elijah’s home. His LED cycled a continuous blue as the link was set up, and flashed in a telltale manner as he backed up everything since his last connection to Elijah’s computer. It took seconds, particularly since he was plugged in. But once he was free again, Connor tested the link by sending through the few moments that passed, and smiled when it was successful.

Their hour was up sooner than Connor would have liked. Just like they had last time, Connor lingered with Elijah at the front door, indulging in a slow, leisurely kiss that was broken reluctantly.

“I love you. I will see you this evening,” Connor murmured, sneaking in a second kiss before he pulled away. “Enjoy your day, Elijah.”

The precinct was already bustling by the time Connor reached it. He clocked in at 7:59 am exactly, and was unsurprised to see Hank’s desk unoccupied. Usually, Connor arrived at the precinct when Hank arrived, and left when Hank left. And so he set about organising their day, filing reports, organising evidence on Hank’s files and noting conclusions he could already see in the evidence offered, and sorting things from most to least important. The office filled up around Connor as he worked, and by 8:45 am almost everyone who was meant to be there had arrived.

He could hear Detective Reed nearby, bantering with Officer Chen about a date she’d had the night before. He was crude and disgusting, and to Connor’s surprise, she was equally as vulgar – just a lot more drawling and a lot less loud than he was. He also learned that they took turns buying each other coffee in the morning, that they had a favourite pizza place they went to for lunch, and that Gavin was willing to assist her with her work. He was her senior in the office, he outranked her, and she technically took orders from him. But their relationship barely reflected it.

It was impossible not to pay attention to detective Reed now that Connor _knew who he was_, and he was particularly diligent in not looking over at him.

Connor knew _Reed_ would know why he had, if he did.

* * *

Elijah wished Connor didn’t _have_ to _suck it up_, but he was right. RK900 would do best in the environment the DPD would provide. The only problem Elijah could see was the matter of a partner. RK900 couldn’t work on his own. He would be assigned to a human counterpart, and as far as Elijah was aware, there were very, very few personnel without partners. One, in particular, came to mind, and the mere thought of RK900 being paired with _him_ was absolutely _hysterical_, although maybe not the best fit for RK900.

When Connor dismissed himself to get dressed, Elijah finished eating, rinsed the bowl and deposited it into the dishwasher, put away the milk and cereal box, and sat down on the couch with his laptop to prepare it for Connor’s memory backup. It only took a couple of minutes, as Elijah had promised, and once he was sure the link was established and Connor’s memories were being stored in the memory bank, he closed out the program and went on to email Fowler. The message was direct and to the point, but polite and professional, portraying the Kamski the public knew.

The time after, Elijah simply relaxed with Connor, wasting time until he had to leave. Elijah didn’t want him to go. He never wanted him to go, but knowing that he’d be seeing him again later that night made parting a little easier. When they stood by the door, Elijah pulled him close and took his time with the kiss. He kept his hands on Connor’s waist, making a point to leave his hair alone.

“I love you too,” he said with a smile once they broke away. “Be safe. I’ll see you later.” It was nice to say, to know what he _would_ see him later. Buying the apartment was one of the best decisions he’d made in a while. Reluctantly, he let Connor go, returning to the couch in time to receive an email with Fowler’s approval along with whatever information and instructions RK900 might need. Elijah simply forwarded the message along to RK900 before heading off to shower and prepare for his day.

––––––

RK900 arrived at the precinct just a few minutes shy of 9:00 AM. After giving the receptionist android his authorization code, he headed through the doors. A brief scan of the room told him where to find Captain Fowler’s office and he was also able to immediately spot Connor, though he didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he walked straight through to Fowler’s office, giving the door a knock. He received a motion of “come in” before opening the door and stepping inside, letting the door close behind him.

“Good morning, Captain,” he greeted, hands clasped behind his back. “I was instructed to report to you as soon as I arrived.”

Jeffrey looked him over for just a moment before looking back to his computer screen. “Kamski said you’re an advanced model and would be an _asset_ to the force. I’m going to have to pair you with someone. Androids might be on the road to equal rights, but we can’t have deviants going off on their own cases alone,” he said with a sigh, looking over a list of his available staff. “It would be best to put you with a detective. We have enough androids to help with more minor cases…” He pushed away from his desk and got up, going over to the door to open it enough to call out. “Reed! In my office,” he shouted before letting the door swing closed and sitting back down at his desk.

RK900 simply stood in front of his desk in silence, waiting for further instructions.

* * *

The first file on Gavin’s desk, crisp and warm from the printer, was – surprise surprise – _fucking androids_. Gavin’s brows creased as he read through it, his thumb picking at a scab on his knuckle.

This was getting in the way of his career. He hadn't had a good, solid, successful big case since the revolution, it felt like he was just going around cleaning up the mess. And while it _had_ only been a few weeks, big cases took time. The fact he hadn’t even started on one left Gavin a little anxious, and _incredibly_ restless. He was hoping Santa would bring him something good in time for Christmas.

When Fowler barked his name, and Gavin looked up to see Connor through the glass, Gavin’s stomach did a strange drop–and–twist. _Immediately_, Gavin assumed the worst. Had he fucking said something to Elijah’s toyboy? Was Connor pressing charges about the evidence room incident? He looked pretty pissed off, if those straightened shoulders were anything to go by. Connor didn’t really stand like that anymore, Gavin noticed. In fact, Connor had developed a habit of leaning on things, he’d noticed over the past couple of days. And if he stood around, he fiddled with something.

Connor wasn’t fiddling with anything today, and a jolt of nerves ran through Gavin as he climbed the stairs into the office.

“What’s up, Captain?” Gavin asked as he came to stand beside Connor, his brows knitted as he looked over to him. Gavin had never noticed the height difference was so pointed before. He had to be at least 6’2, 6’3… and he was wearing his uniform again? White sleeves this time, still the same blue armband and CyberLife Sans blaring RK900––

Gavin’s eyebrows raised, and he stepped back towards the door to look through the glass, towards Anderson’s desk. Where Connor was sitting, watching Gavin right back.

Oh. Oh, _fucking Jesus Christ._

Gavin’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a very long, very calming, very useless breath of air, and looked back at Fowler with an accusatory look in his eye. Gavin’s jaw tightened, and he smiled, but it was completely and utterly devoid of any humour.

One day, Gavin was gonna sit where Fowler was sitting. He was going to get there with blood and sweat and tears, not with Elijah’s money and not with ass-kissing. He was going to get there with hard work, and he was going to get it before he turned 40. That gave him four years and zero time for whatever robocop bullshit was about to be pulled on him.

And it gave him zero time for tantrums.

Hank had almost been fired when he’d screamed at Fowler like a baby. He’d almost gotten a strike, too. Gavin didn’t need that. He didn't need this. He had shit to do, things to accomplish.

That smile turned into a grin as he braced for it.

“Thought CyberLife wasn’t making this shit anymore.”

* * *

Jeffrey _knew_ Gavin wasn’t going to be pleased with the assignment. He’d worked with the kid long enough to know how he felt about androids. But he also worked with him long enough to know how _desperately_ he wanted a promotion, how hard he’d been working for one. If Gavin ever wanted to see lieutenant, he’d have to cooperate.

He knew that smile was genuine, but he went along anyway.

“I thought so too, but Elijah Kamski emailed me this morning. Says the RK900 is ‘faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with all the latest technologies,’ and that he would be an ‘asset to the force,’ and quite frankly, we need the help,” Jeffrey replied, eyeing the android for just a second before turning his attention back to Gavin. “He’s gonna be your partner, and the two of you are going to be taking on android related cases, like Anderson and Connor.”

Before Gavin could have a chance to even cut in, Jeffrey raised his hand to cut him off. “And before you start, you are the _only_ detective without a partner, I have no other choice, and if you ever want that promotion, you’re going to have to deal with it. Play nice, don’t break him. Any damages outside of a case are coming out of your paycheck,” he concluded, turning his attention to his computer again, dismissing them.

RK900 had remained silent the entire time, observing Gavin. While he wasn’t fully capable of integrating into society like Connor, he was excellent at reading body language and social cues. Gavin wasn’t friendly. He wasn’t quite _hostile_, but close to it. He’d also noticed that it seemed like Gavin had mistaken him for Connor, which wasn’t much of a surprise, considering their similarities.

Gavin was several inches shorter, a little stocky, and he had _quite _a few scars. The scars made RK900 curious, although he didn’t ask about them. The timing was inappropriate and he wasn’t quite sure if questioning Gavin at all would be wise. If he was to be his partner, they would have to get along. RK900 knew it was going to be a challenge. Gavin didn’t seem open to the idea of having a partner, let alone an android partner, and RK900 wasn’t really capable of _acting_ human. He needed to study those around him to learn, and he’d only been around humans for a total of maybe five minutes, not counting the time last night when he had been activated by Elijah.

“I look forward to working with you, Detective,” RK900 said finally, turning to face Gavin. His posture was still stiff, his hands still clasped behind his back. His expression remained neutral, devoid of any emotion. The only indicator that anything was going on in his head at all was the swirling blue LED at his temple.

* * *

The longer Fowler spoke, and more wrinkled Gavin’s nose became. His chin tilted down, until he was looking up at the captain through his eyebrows. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt.

Gavin had learned the hard way, and he’d learned extremely quickly, that if you wanted absolutely fucking anything, you figured out who gave it to you and you didn’t ruffle their feathers. He remembered it from boot camp, from the police academy. He’d learned that if you copped a shit job and you did it well, you usually got rewarded for it.

And he fucking swore that if he didn’t get rewarded for this he might just let his tongue slip around Fowler.

“Understood,” is all he got out past clenched teeth, his hands shoving into his jacket pockets and curling around his carton of cigarettes. Gavin’s gaze lifted to RK900, still looking up through his eyebrows as he watched the way he moved, the way he spoke, and how fucking… _inhuman_ it was.

He also noticed its eyes. They weren’t brown and goofy like Connor’s were, they were pale and cold and it seemed like he was looking right through Gavin, like he could see everything. He probably could.

Gavin’s tongue popped against the roof of his mouth, and without a word to Fowler or the machine, he turned and left, letting the glass slam back in RK900’s face. The second he was out, Gavin took out his phone and opened a message to Elijah.

**TO:** _Fucker_

**FROM:** _Smartass_

**MESSAGE:**

> _Fuck you._

Snatching his zippo off his desk, Gavin didn’t wait for RK900 as he crossed the bullpen and stormed out, tapping a cigarette out of its box as he walked across the foyer. There was an alley between the precinct building and the little cafe he and Tina bought their coffees. Full of steam from a nearby vent, it was warmer than the street, and a good place to hide for a smoke. _Seething_, Gavin cupped his hand around the cigarette and lit up, his gaze lifting as a second figure entered the alley after him.

“Fuck off,” Gavin snapped, his teeth baring. “You my fucking parole officer now? Fuck off. Fuck you. Actually,” Gavin closed the zippo with a snap of metal and shoved it in his pocket with the cigarettes. Exhaling a lungful of smoke into the RK900’s face, Gavin put a hand in the center of its chest and shoved so hard, a human would have landed right on their ass. “You plastic fuckers wanna be treated like everyone else, huh? So listen up. Stay _the fuck_ out of my way. I don’t need you, I don’t fucking _want_ you, and the only reason I'm not putting––” Gavin stopped abruptly, remembering that a threat like the one he'd been about to make could get him into deep shit, if laws kept changing. “Stay out of my way, tin can, and we won’t have any problems. Got it?”

* * *

When Gavin turned to leave, RK900 followed him, only to stop abruptly as the door swung back. He caught it with his hand and pushed it open again to leave the office, closing the door behind him silently before following after Gavin. He had no orders, but he knew that if Gavin was his partner, he was supposed to stick with him. So, he’d follow him for now, until he was given an order or a job to do.

He followed Gavin through the bullpen and outside, almost flinching as the frigid air hit his face. His clothes were warm enough, although they weren’t intended to be. They covered enough to at least knock the chill off, protect him from most of the cold, but he could definitely still feel it. It wasn’t _awful_, but it was unpleasant.

RK900 took a moment once he made it out of the door to glance around, no Gavin in sight. Though a few steps down the sidewalk, he was able to locate him in an alleyway off to the side of the building. He expected to be met with hostility. Gavin was angry when he’d left the precinct. He expected the hostility Gavin directed towards him when he approached him in the alley. What he didn’t expect was the force behind the shove against his chest. He stumbled back with it, but managed to stay upright, his LED flickering yellow with a look of surprise on his face for just the briefest of seconds.

He wasn’t sure what Gavin was going to say, where his sentence was going to go, but he knew it wasn’t going to be nice. It was absolutely a threat, and it was likely a threat that Gavin would uphold if he was pushed enough. He would have to tread carefully. Although, despite being able to read humans as well as he could, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be capable to read a situation well enough to determine if his words would have a negative or positive effect on Gavin.

RK900 took a step back to put a bit of distance between them in an attempt to appease Gavin, straightening out his jacket. “Got it,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back again. He thought about just keeping his mouth shut and awaiting direct orders, but he knew that in order to become _friends_ with someone, talking was often involved. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, if he should say anything at all, so he simply went with what was on his mind at that very moment, whether it was a wise choice or not. “Androids’ exterior shells are composed of primarily plastic. We do not contain tin.”

* * *

The complete lack of any sort of reaction got to Gavin more than if RK900 had shoved him back. He’d sort of wanted him to, if he were honest, and he knew that was because he was itching to fight. A simple ‘got it’ and a clasp of hands behind his back wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted. Although, after the way Connor had taken him down, it was probably for the best.

Gavin dragged his cigarette, pacing back and forth to try and keep warm and chase away his jitters, and watched RK900 the entire time.

“I know you’re not made of tin, fuckwit,” Gavin snapped, turning his face to the side as he exhaled a lungful of smoke. He watched it. How it moved – or rather, how it didn’t move – and how it spoke. How it held itself. Gavin knew androids had idle movements. Little gestures they made with their faces, or their hands, needless shifts of their weight to keep humans at ease. RK900 reminded Gavin of the first iteration of this, when the movements had been so insignificant and barely-there they might as well not have installed any.

“You deviant?” Gavin asked, pissed off as he watched him. “They forget to change you or something? Are you ‘_alive’_, asshole?”

* * *

The fact that Gavin claimed to know the makeup of an android had been surprising, only for a second. His LED flickered yellow as he processed it, searching the memories he’d leached from Connor to find out _why_. An ever so slight look of realization crossed his face when he found the particular memory. Gavin was Elijah Kamski’s half brother. It made sense, then, that Gavin knew what materials were used to make an android. He didn’t comment about it, instead just filing the information away for later.

Gavin’s question came as a bit of a surprise, though it really shouldn’t. It seemed Gavin hadn’t been told about him prior to his arrival. That in itself wasn’t surprising. If he’d known in advance, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he had in Captain Fowler’s office.

“If I base my answer off of the definition the general public uses for ‘deviant,’ yes, I am a deviant,” RK900 replied simply and evenly. “I was activated at 8:43 PM yesterday. Elijah Kamski modified my code to grant me full autonomy.”

RK900 had taken a look at the code on the computer monitors once Elijah and Connor left the night before. He took note of all of the changes that had been made and he had planned on asking Connor about a few of them, ones he didn’t quite understand the purpose of. He didn’t understand why there were protocols put in place in the first place, or why Connor felt the need to modify all of them. He understood the reasoning behind a few of the more obvious ones, the ones that would have forced him to kill Markus, deviants, or the president, but he didn’t understand why the others needed to be changed. He supposed it was because they would have overwritten his deviancy, but he wasn’t sure if that was the only reason behind it.

* * *

Gavin watched it. He stopped walking, and just openly _stared_ at it. And hell, he’d be dishonest if he said some of his anger hadn’t trickled away, replaced with a focus as he tried to work out what was wrong with the android standing in front of him. Because something was definitely wrong with it. Gavin came to stand in front of it, flicking ash off his cigarette with one hand, and then snapping his fingers in front of the RK900’s face with the other. He watched it’s LED, the occasional shifts into yellow. That wasn’t a good sign.

“What the hell kind of answer is that. Run a systems check,” Gavin ordered, frowning up at it as he dragged the cigarette again. “The lights are on but no–one’s home, ‘uh, tin can? Run a systems check.”

He wanted it to leave him alone for different reasons, now. He wanted to call Elijah. Not just to chew him out, but to ask him about it. It shouldn’t be acting like this. Had he sent him a mentally disturbed murder bot for a cheap thrill or had he just not noticed it was malfunctioning?

“What’s your name?”

* * *

RK900 couldn’t read Gavin, for the first time since meeting him only minutes ago. When he’d stopped walking and just stared, he didn’t know what was going through his head. He watched Gavin walk closer, his eyes focusing in on the fingers snapped in front of his face. The direct order, despite whatever the reason was behind it, was welcomed. His eyes closed for just a brief moment as his LED flickered away.

**Initiating Systems Check...**

> _Systems Check initialized…_
> 
> _Scanning…_
> 
> Systems Check **[ Complete ]**
> 
> Results: _**Clear**_

“All systems are clear of any abnormalities,” he reported, his eyes opening and his LED settling back to a steady, slow swirl of yellow. He didn’t understand Gavin’s reasoning behind the order. He didn’t _think_ he was acting abnormally. He wasn’t quite sure what counted as “normal” now though. The way Connor had acted wasn’t standard for androids. The android receptionist behind the counter seemed to fit the standard set by CyberLife, but was she a deviant? He hadn’t been able to tell.

RK900’s LED flickered for a second when he was asked for his name. A pre-programmed answer wasn’t waiting for him. He searched through all of the files available to him through CyberLife and he couldn’t find a name associated with his model.

“I… I wasn’t given a name,” he replied as the realization hit him, his eyebrows knitting together just slightly as an unpleasant feeling rushed through him. He didn’t recognize the emotion. It was uncomfortable and it made his chest ache, and he didn’t understand _why_.

* * *

Gavin _sneered_, his gaze flicking over RK900’s face, shoulders, and torso, before traveling back up to his face again. His system was _not_ clear. There was something glaringly, obviously wrong, and Gavin wondered – would it shut down and enter standby mode if he ordered it to? It needed to be looked at. Gavin had experienced first hand what this particular model of machine could do, and having one that was unstable floating around made him nervous. The entire model made him nervous. He felt like it was going to reach out and snap his neck.

Gavin watched as it’s LED flickered and spun yellow, and that made Gavin nervous, too. The RK series were advanced. They were supercomputers on legs. Yellow indicators meant something was going on in that processor that was putting its systems through minor stress.

He’d been a second away from calling Elijah when the RK900 _finally_ gave Gavin a reaction. Its eyes shifted subtly, and its eyebrows knitted. The way it spoke sounded so much like Connor that Gavin held his breath a second.

When it gave the answer it did, Gavin quickly looked away as he realised what that expression had meant. He didn’t answer, he didn’t have it in him to rub its nose in the fact nobody gave enough shits to program it with a name. And maybe a month ago that would have been real funny to Gavin. Or maybe a month ago it wouldn’t have meant anything. But since seeing Elijah’s code, he wasn’t so sure anymore. They weren’t people, but they weren’t machines. And even machines got given names.

Eventually, Gavin flicked the finished butt of his cigarette into the snow, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Pick one,” Is all he says in the end, walking off briskly back towards the precinct, not bothering to check if he was following. Connor followed Hank around like a dog. Gavin knew RK900 would be no different at all.

He bumped into Tina as he beelined for his desk, who took one look at the RK900 and raised her eyebrows at Gavin with a shit-eating smirk. Gavin wasn’t in the mood, and threw her a silent warning to keep her mouth shut about it. That, in turn, made Tina bark out a laugh.

“Shut your _fucking_ mouth, Chen,” Gavin hissed, _livid_, and she walked away laughing louder.

When he reached his desk, Gavin threw his zippo and his cigarettes next to his keyboard and fell back into his chair the same moment he pulled out his phone. He was aware that the RK900 had nowhere to sit, and he was also aware that it was below his pay grade to do something about it. He made a ‘shoo’ motion at the RK900 as he stretched his legs out onto the desk, and preoccupied himself with a second message to Elijah.

**TO:** _Fucker_

**FROM:** _Smartass_

**MESSAGE:**

> _I’m going to call you on lunch break and if you don’t fucking answer your phone you’ll see me tonight, you enormous, robot–loving, backstabbing piece of shit ASSHOLE motherfucker._

He then clattered the phone onto the table and pulled up his files, and the way he so pointedly and effectively ignored the RK900 suggested that ignoring people was something he’d had a lot of practice doing.

Connor watched the exchange from across the room, and stood, winding around the back of the desks and beelining towards the space between the back of Fowler’s office, and the containment cells.

_RK900._

Connor grabbed his attention as he moved, catching his eye as he led the way. Connor scanned him when they were together again, checking for signs of violence and finding none that were obvious.

“If I'd known you would be assigned to Detective Reed I would have suggested an alternative,” Connor said emphatically, his expression pinched as he continued to look him over. “Are you okay? I saw you leave together, and Detective Reed seemed no less agitated when he returned.”

If anything, speaking verbally was for anyone who passed and saw them. Humans didn’t like it when they simply stood and interfaced, it creeped them out. Or so Hank had explained.

_You are Detective Reed’s equal. Do not let him order you around like a machine. You outrank him intellectually. Do not let him treat you like you’re inferior to him._

* * *

RK900 didn’t understand why his answer got a negative response. He was fairly certain that clear results were good results, so why did Gavin react negatively to positive results? It didn’t make any sense. There was a lot about Gavin that didn’t make much sense, and he had plenty of questions to ask, but he knew better than to ask them anytime soon. Maybe once his relationship with Gavin improved, he could inquire about his life and why he was the kind of person he was. Until then, though, he had to watch what he said. At least until the hostility died down.

Each reaction Gavin gave only confused RK900 more. Why was it that admitting he had no name, something that felt so _wrong_, made Gavin seem less… angry? He’d held his breath for a moment, he noticed. Why was something so negative make Gavin less aggressive when positive news made him angry?

The two words Gavin spoke only served to confuse him more than he already was. _Pick one?_ How was he supposed to just… pick a name for himself? That wasn’t how naming worked. Names were given to an individual by someone else. Even with the billions of names he knew in hundreds of different cultures and languages, he couldn’t find one that he thought fit. Names meant something. He couldn’t name himself without _knowing_ himself. Maybe he’d ask Connor to name him, or Elijah. He thought about asking Gavin, but he wasn’t sure he would receive an actual, genuine answer anytime soon.

RK900 followed after Gavin once he walked back towards the front doors. He remained silent as he followed him over to his desk, although he wasn’t quite sure what to do from there. He knew what Gavin’s hand motion meant, but he wasn’t sure where to _shoo_ to. He just stood by Gavin’s desk, a little awkwardly, awaiting some sort of order. He watched Gavin’s computer screen as he looked through case files. He figured it might be wise to pick one to respond to first, and he had been about to suggest doing just that when Connor’s voice invaded his head. He looked over, noticing Connor heading towards the space behind Fowler’s office and obediently followed along.

“Detective Reed is… difficult to understand,” RK900 reported, troubled by the thought although his face hardly conveyed any emotion. “I’m fine.” The shove hadn’t hurt him at all and all Gavin did was make threats. Physically, he was okay. Otherwise? He wasn’t necessarily _not_ okay.

Part of him wanted to argue with Connor. They were equals, yes, but he was also a machine. He _needed_ direction. He needed Gavin to give him orders to follow, because otherwise, he was lost. He didn’t know what to do or how to act. He was supposed to take orders and succeed. He was confident in his ability to successfully take orders and accomplish his mission, regardless of whatever task he was given.

“I was never given a name,” he said aloud, a little suddenly.

_Detective Reed asked for my name. I don’t have a name. He told me to pick one._

* * *

Connor’s LED flickered yellow, and his eyes shuddered as he looked away. He… _knew_. He knew the RK900 had no name, but for some reason, Connor had expected RK900 to take his name, or think of his own. There were plenty of androids in Jericho who had chosen their own – North was one who came to mind.

It was an oversight. He and Elijah should have talked about it, but the night before had been so full of emotion it hadn’t occurred to Connor to suggest it. Sympathy, sadness, and a little bit of despair washed over Connor. Would they have taken even his name away?

“A name marks us as individuals. He’s right. You should pick a name,” Connor said quietly, raising his gaze to meet the cold blue of RK900. “I’m sorry you weren’t given one.”

Connor reached out, and with a sigh, the synthetic skin of his hand peeled back as he gripped the RK900’s arm.

**Connection Request // RK900**

> _ **Pending… ** _
> 
> _ **ACCEPTED.** _
> 
> _ **Connecting with RK900…** _

Connor pulled the scene from outside, only vaguely interested in the events, and concerned more with how RK900 _felt_. Connor was aware that he didn’t need to do this. He was aware that he wouldn’t be available to do it every time RK900 encountered a hiccup. But there was pity in Connor’s chest that was painfully rotting, and a need to set things right.

Gavin Reed thought RK900 was defective because of his lack of movement and emotions. He doubted whether RK900 was even deviant. His anger at the positive system check was because he didn’t believe it. Gavin’s snuffed anger at being told he didn’t have a name was pity. And _RK900’s_ emotion was sadness, neglect, unfairness. He didn’t present his last point as a fact, but merely a suggestion.

“Your reluctance to act without instruction will result in your dehumanisation. You are more advanced than me in every conceivable way. You know what you’re doing. Do not let Detective Reed treat you like this,” Connor said quietly, pulling up RK900’s memory of being shoved.

Letting go, Connor looked up at him again. Maybe some time in Jericho would help RK900 discover who he was. He would lose his structure, but perhaps he would gain his humanity in the process. Perhaps Jericho could help him discover himself, meet others who felt just like him.

“If this environment is inappropriate for you, I can contact Markus and request you stay in Jericho with others like you. This job will always be here when you’re ready to take it…”

* * *

RK900 still couldn’t decide on a name. He was aware that plenty of deviants chose their own names. If he dug into the memories he’d pulled from Connor the night before, he could pinpoint a few androids who hadn’t been given names originally. But their names likely meant something to them. Something about the name they chose stood out, and no name RK900 could think of really stood out to him.

He watched as Connor reached out to grip his forearm, the request popping up in his vision. He accepted it in an instant, although he didn’t peer into Connor’s mind. He simply allowed Connor to see what he wanted to see, watching him while he waited for Connor to finish going through his memories.

He could _feel_ Connor’s pity through the connection, whether Connor meant for him to feel it or not. He appreciated Connor’s help, and he made sure Connor knew. It was very helpful to know what was going through Gavin’s head, what he might have been thinking, why he reacted the way he did and what exactly his reaction _was_. It was even more helpful to know what exactly _he_, himself, had been feeling. Sadness. Neglect. Unfairness. When he thought about it, it sounded right.

RK900 gave a small nod in acknowledgement when Connor showed him the memory of Gavin shoving him. He knew he shouldn’t fight back, as that would only make matters worse, but he could defend himself. He could defend himself without having to retaliate.

At Connor’s suggestion, he quickly shook his head. “No. At this point in time, leaving would be perceived as running away. Detective Reed is a challenge, but in time, I think we may be able to come to a mutual understanding. I’ll be okay.”

The thought of moving to a location filled with deviants… scared him. He didn’t want to be surrounded by the very people that were meant to be his prey. It wasn’t safe for them. _He_ didn’t trust himself enough. He knew he wasn’t supposed to hunt them or hurt them anymore, and Elijah and Connor had modified his code to ensure that he didn’t, but what if they missed something? He was trying to build bridges, not destroy any opportunity for them to even _be_ built. Going to Jericho wouldn’t be wise. Besides, after his encounter with Gavin, leaving would definitely be perceived as running away because things got a little difficult. He was going to stick it out, no matter how difficult Gavin got.

* * *

Connor lifted his chin at RK900’s response, but nodded.

“Yes, I agree. Leaving now _would_ be perceived as running away,” He sighed, his chest lifting with it. This situation was Connor’s fault. He should have seen the possibility of RK900 being assigned to Detective Reed as a greater threat. It had certainly always loomed as a possibility, but Connor had incorrectly assumed Fowler wouldn’t be so cruel.

_If Detective Reed becomes unmanageable, or assaults you again, please tell me. I will gladly have him apprehended on your behalf. _

Connor’s face turned as they were passed by an officer, who gave them both a curious once–over. He’d noticed that humans always reacted to androids conversing without speech, whether that be curiosity or unease. It didn’t particularly bother Connor either way, but keeping people thinking warmly towards him was somewhat of a goal of his.

“Do you have any other questions?” Connor asked, turning his attention back to RK900.

* * *

It was reassuring to know that Connor was on his side and planned on sticking up for him if he needed it. It made him feel less alone to know that he could rely on Connor. He was really all he had, outside of CyberLife.

_Thank you, Connor._

He felt that it needed to be said. He was thankful. He doubted he would need Connor to have Gavin apprehended though. If anything else happened, he would defend himself in the future. It was going to be a rocky road, but he was going to put up with Gavin until they got along. He wanted to help out, and he wanted to stay on the force with Connor. He would have liked it more if he was working more directly with Connor, but working as a team with someone else wouldn’t be so bad, as long as that someone cooperated.

“I don’t think so. If any questions arise, I will be sure to ask you,” RK900 assured. He figured he could just ask him telepathically, if he had to. “I should return to Detective Reed. He was looking at case files before I stepped away. Thank you.”

And with that, he turned to head back over to Gavin’s desk, coming to stand beside it. “Detective, have you decided on a case to follow up on? We should choose one before more come in.”

* * *

Gavin was leant over a tablet when the RK900 returned, scribbling notes onto the notepad app. It helped him think a hell of a lot better than just typing things, and in a way that even Gavin knew was vindictive and stupid, it stopped people reading his things. His handwriting was atrocious.

He tapped the tablet pencil against his jaw as he looked up at it, his gaze flicking to the side as he watched Connor take a seat. So, that’s where he’d been.

“Aww, you and the OG terminator bitching about me, huh?” Gavin snapped, going back to his notes and continuing to ignore the RK900. He’d chosen a simple homicide case. Easy peasy, they’d have it done by knock–off. He’d chosen it so he wouldn’t have to think about it, so he could watch the RK900 and make sure it _worked_. He’d been doing Homicides for years, and in a weird way, they were almost relaxing. He knew what to expect. No surprises. Just from the evidence, Gavin knew this was drug-related. People didn’t go fucking ballistic with clean blood tests.

Gavin’s _only_ courtesy to RK900 was not closing his window. He didn’t discuss the case, he didn’t tell him which one. He simply stood, grabbed his smokes, and left.

“Chen, you busy?”

“Mooch a lift from someone else, Reed,” Tina replied, but smiled over at him. “Paperwork this afternoon, though. Call me if you need a lift,” she said, and Gavin acknowledged it with a thumbs up. If he had his own car he _wouldn’t_ need a lift, but he didn’t like taking his car to cases. He didn’t like people seeing how much of a piece of shit it was. He could do without the connection to Anderson’s piece of shit Volvo, or whatever it was.

Gavin’s entire demeanour on his way to the basement was a series of wordless gestures for RK900 to keep up, or get left behind. He didn’t slow down for him, didn’t wait for him, and when he got into the car, he very seriously considered not unlocking the door for him, too. It was only Fowler’s apprehension if RK900 was left behind that made him do it, and he pulled out before RK900 had closed the door all the way.

Gavin’s cold shoulder continued the entire drive there, and when Rk900 opened his mouth to speak, Gavin leant forward and cranked up the music, pointedly drowning him out. Shut up. Go away. They didn’t need to be said for them to be written all over Gavin.

He turned down the music a block away from arriving. There was a pause, where Gavin considered chewing it out. Don’t get in his way. Don’t fuck this up for him. Don’t mess with the crime scene. _Stay in the car_.

“Ladies first,” Gavin snapped instead, gesturing to the passenger door. He then swore under his breath, pissed off as he climbed out and shoved his keys into his pockets. He brushed past RK900 as they approached the police tape, knocking the RK900 _hard_ out of his way with a smack of his shoulder.

* * *

RK900 didn’t respond to Gavin’s question, knowing he likely didn’t care for an answer. Instead, he looked at Gavin’s computer monitor, catching the file number to look up himself as he followed after Gavin. He didn’t stray too far behind, but he also didn’t dare get too close either, keeping a good few feet between them. Out of arm’s reach.

He followed him down into the basement and to the car, silently getting into the passenger seat once the door was unlocked. He put his seat belt on as Gavin started driving, absolutely noticing that Gavin had hardly waited for him to get in before driving off. He had opened his mouth to discuss the case, but he got the memo when Gavin cranked up the music. He stayed silent for the remainder of the car ride.

The information they had regarding the case was vague. It was a homicide, notably not android related. RK900 assumed it was because Gavin had previously worked homicide before being assigned android related cases. It wasn’t surprising that he would choose a homicide case over an android one. The victims were a woman named Nadia Hale, aged 27, and a man named Jason McLean, aged 34. From what RK900 could dig up in their records, Nadia had no criminal record aside from a DUI from three years ago. Jason, on the other hand, had a multitude of charges, mostly drug possession, one count of drug distribution, and one count of misdemeanor assault. Upon digging further, he was able to find out that they had been in a relationship and both resided at the address on file, the scene of the crime. In all of the social media pictures he’d found, they didn’t appear to have a bad relationship, although he was aware that looks could be deceiving.

Aside from the little bit of information on the victims they had, the only other information they knew was that a neighbor had found them when she had come over to ask Jason for a favor. They hadn’t answered the door and she found them when she peeked in through the window. It appeared as though Jason had beaten Nadia to death, something that seemed very out of character from what RK900 had learned just by looking at their social media accounts. There wasn’t anything else on the file, aside from the address.

When they arrived, RK900 got out of the car despite Gavin’s taunt, and started to make his way towards the police tape. The collision of Gavin’s shoulder against his own, just the _force_ behind it, actually hurt a little, though he didn’t let on that he was affected by it at all. He continued walking after him in silence, until they made it inside the house. Gavin was a perfect example of the term “looks can be deceiving.” He didn’t look very intimidating, but the shove earlier and the shoulder just now had quite a bit of force behind them.

“Nadia Hale, aged 27, and Jason McLean, aged 34, were found dead by their neighbor, Joclyn Derry, at 8:27 this morning,” he stated, just so Gavin could be brought up to speed in case he hadn’t bothered to really read through it. He moved closer to the two bodies on the living room floor, looking them over before crouching down beside Nadia, dipping his index and middle finger into the partially dried blood surrounding her body before bringing them to his mouth to sample.

**Forensic Sample Test**

> Subject: Nadia Hale
> 
> _Testing blood sample… _
> 
> _Test complete._
> 
> Time of Death: _4:38__ AM, December __14, 2038_
> 
> Toxicology Report: _**Clear**_

“Time of death was 4:38 AM. No traces of alcohol or illegal substances in her blood,” he reported, looking over her body. It was pretty obvious that she had been beaten, her body and face bloody and littered with bruises and gashes. Although it wasn’t the beating that had killed her. He looked over to Jason, his eyes examining his body and falling on the scuffed and bloodied baseball bat between his body and Nadia’s. The fingerprints on it matched Jason’s. “She died from an impact to her head. The bat or maybe a fall.”

He stood and moved over to Jason, crouching beside him next to sample his blood.

**Forensic Sample Test**

> Subject: Jason McLean
> 
> _Testing blood sample… _
> 
> _Test complete._
> 
> Time of Death: _4:43__ AM, December __14, 2038_
> 
> Toxicology Report: _**Unknown substance found**_
> 
> Chemical contents: _Thirium 310, acetone, lithium, toluene, hydrochloric acid_

RK900’s LED immediately flickered yellow as he rose to his feet. “Time of death was 4:43 AM,” he reported, trying to figure out what exactly came up in his test results.

* * *

Until RK900 began to talk, Gavin hadn't realised – he’d never seen Connor on a case. He’d heard Chris talk about it. Heard other people talk about it, and he saw how efficient Anderson was now. What usually took the old man a week was getting wrapped up in a day. And so despite wanting to heckle him and reply that yeah, he fucking chose the case he _knew who they were_, he didn’t. He shut up and watched as RK900 stepped right to the bodies, and––

“Hey!” Gavin said as RK900 did exactly what he’d been afraid he’d do, and put his fingers in the evidence like a child with dip paints. “_What the fuck is wrong with–– _Hey! Hey, hey, he–– oh _fuckin’ Christ_––” Gavin _yelled_ as the RK900’s fingers went into its mouth.

In a way, it was lucky there were two corpses and half a dozen evidence markers between Gavin and the RK900. The urge to slap those fingers out of his mouth was _overwhelming_, but he couldn’t get to him in time without fucking up their scene more than it now already was. Gavin looked _ropeable._ He couldn’t _believe_ it. But then RK900 started talking, and Gavin’s anger was replaced with sharp confusion as he listened – not at the evidence, but how he’d obtained it.

He watched as RK900 did the same with Jason, paying close attention to his fingers and the way he used his mouth. He couldn’t believe it, and Gavin knew from just this that Elijah had no part in designing this particular RK series. At least not past the prototypes, if at all.

“_Your forensics is in your mouth?!” _Gavin yelled at him, stepping around the markers and snatching RK900’s wrist. Vaguely, he noticed the yellow flash at his temple, but it had been yellow since he’d arrived, so he mostly ignored it. Instead, he turned RK900’s hand around to look at his fingers, and then reached up, releasing his fingers to snatch at his jaw. Gavin forced his mouth open roughly, looking inside, his face utterly disgusted. Not just with the fact he had coagulated blood particles in there, but with CyberLife.

“What the hell! Why the fuck aren’t your forensics on your fingers?” Gavin demanded, _angry_ that some shit–for–brains at CyberLife took his brother’s creations, his brother’s life, and decided that they were going to make the cleverest robot mankind had ever seen, _and have him test forensics with his tongue_. Did Elijah know? He was making out with Connor, right? _Did Elijah know what went in his mouth?!_

He let go of RK900 abruptly, looking back down at the corpses. It was a dumb place to put it, but the forensics feature was… actually really helpful. They usually had to send it to a lab and wait a day for results. He even had the time of death. That hadn’t been on the report. That was useful, too.

“You gonna give me the toxicology or do I have to say ‘please’?” Gavin said, although his snark was a little blunter, and he wasn’t quite so loud. He’d sobered up, and little by little was focusing back on the case by their feet. “Red Ice, obviously. But they’re not usually this messy after getting glassed,” Gavin said, walking around to stand over the head of Nadia Hale. He always wondered why they never ran. He’d seen so many women beaten to death by piece of shit men. He deserved what he got, but it didn’t look like she did. She was a blip. One amongst hundreds of women he’d seen in his career.

“So what’d he mix it with? Coke? Dope? Doesn’t stink of pot in here, at least…” Gavin drawled, pulling out his tablet and bringing up the notes he’d written.

* * *

RK900 easily ignored Gavin’s shouting. He didn’t quite understand Gavin’s concern with him contaminating the crime scene. He didn’t have fingerprints or DNA. He couldn’t affect the crime scene any more than officers and CSI already had.

When Gavin finally moved closer and grabbed his wrist, he had no real reaction, although the look on his face, subtle as it was, was confusion. He didn’t understand the toxicology report. He knew the composition of Red Ice was thirium, acetone, lithium, toluene, and hydrochloric acid. This was incredibly similar, but it wasn’t registering as Red Ice. The thirium was replaced with Thirium 310, different from the standard chemical, thirium. Otherwise, the drug was the same.

He was too preoccupied with figuring out _what_ to even say in regards to his report to answer Gavin’s questions about his forensic sampling methods. He let his arm fall back to his side once Gavin released him, and he looked back down to Jason’s body, contemplating taking another sample, just to be sure. He decided against it, in the end, and turned his attention to Gavin when he’d asked about the toxicology report.

“He didn’t mix anything. It isn’t Red Ice. Or at least, the chemical composition isn’t entirely the same. Red Ice contains thirium, acetone, lithium, toluene, and hydrochloric acid. This strain has the same composition, with one key difference. Instead of thirium, it contains Thirium 310,” RK900 explained. “This unknown substance is the only result on his toxicology report. Have you heard of this strain of Red Ice before?” When he’d searched, he hadn’t found any other results. As far as he was aware, it didn’t exist up until now.

“He died of an overdose. He only had 100mg in his system, but we don’t know the effects this strain has. 100mg could be a fatal dose for this strain, whereas standard Red Ice typically takes 150mg,” he stated, stepping back and away from the two to look at the scene from a distance. “I haven’t checked their phone records yet, but what I’ve been able to find through their social media makes them seem like a happy couple. They were smiling in all of their pictures. Something set him off. She had to have done or said something to make him angry enough to do this, even while high. I just don’t know what caused it.”

They likely wouldn’t know either. If their phone records didn’t show anything, whatever transpired must have happened face to face, in a place RK900 couldn’t reach. He could only assume based off of the evidence they had in front of them.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, looking to Gavin. They couldn’t arrest anyone. The murderer was dead too. There was no one to interrogate, no one to arrest. The evidence painted a pretty clear picture of what happened. It seemed like the case was closed. The only thing that really bothered him about the case was the Red Ice strain.

* * *

Gavin’s eyebrows raised as he listened, and he idly chewed on his lip as he looked up at him giving the report. Rk900 was, despite Gavin’s attitude, incredibly easy to work with. It was sort of like having a report read to him by AI as they worked, which he supposed was exactly what was happening. Gavin made a sound of surprise when the chemical difference was explained to him, but otherwise, he didn’t look particularly shocked.

“Yeah, people make this shit in their backyards all the time. You find rat poisoning, bleach, all kinds of stuff mixed in. Whoever made it probably thought Thirium and Thirium 310 were the same thing. Fuckwit. Though, s’good to know blue blood makes them psycho,” Gavin said with a shrug, unclipping the tablet pen to make a note to check other cases. If they found someone using Thirium 310 in previous cases, they could maybe track him down and put his little backyard lab out of business. It was worth a shot.

Gavin’s eyebrows twitch inwards at what RK900 said next, and although he prickled, it wasn’t the same hot anger he’d shown before.

“Yeah, she could have. Or she could’ve said nothing. You seen anyone on meth in the three hours you’ve been alive, you fuckin’ asshat? No. They get loopy and loud. Turn real nasty, they get paranoid. So yeah, she could’ve said something, but more likely, he walked in with a baseball bat and beat the shit out of her, ‘til she stopped screaming. She couldn’t have said anything that earned that reaction, anyway.”

And the way Gavin was talking wasn’t hot-headed or even particularly pissed off. It was repetitive. He’d said this before, to others, and he was saying it again to a robot that was meant to know everything. It was validating, in a way. RK900 still had things he didn’t know.

“Yeah, this baby came practically pre-wrapped for us. We’ll send Jason’s blood to the lab to test against yours, just to make sure your fuckin tongue shit is accurate, and then it’s closed. Now,” Gavin said, sounding reproachful, “Do I have your goddamn permission to take five minutes for a phone call without you breathing down my back?” Gavin asked, his lip curling as he did.

And if he were being honest, Gavin didn’t completely feel like biting Elijah’s head off as he stepped into the back yard and dialed his brother’s Cell. He was angry, yeah. But the case had sobered him up a lot, and RK900 was one hell of a good investigative machine. They’d only been there an hour, if that, and the case was already closed with labs and time of death. The only thing that gnawed at him, was that these things were getting rights like theirs. Which meant that Gavin wouldn’t be able to keep up, soon. If he wanted lieutenant, if he wanted _captain_, he was going to have to hustle a little harder.

Gavin’s good mood lasted until Elijah’s phone rang out. And then all his forgiven sins were back in the air again.

His change in temperament was _astronomical_, and everyone he met for the rest of the day wore it. He was an asshole getting the evidence bagged, he was an asshole as the bodies were deemed safe to move. He went back to ignoring the RK900, and swore at him to get in the car when it was time to go. He was an asshole to Tina when she tried to chat at 4:30 pm, and he was angry. _Seethingly angry_ the entire afternoon. The case report was practically thrown at Fowler, if emails could be thrown, and the whole office soon learned to give his desk some space for the rest of the day.

Gavin got in his car at 5:07 pm and arrived at his brother’s at 6:11.

He stood at Elijah’s door and pressed the doorbell, over and over, _just_ because he knew how much that pissed Elijah off.

* * *

RK900 supposed that maybe it had just been a confusion, but at the same time… “The general public doesn’t have access to Thirium 310. It isn’t sold in stores,” he pointed out. It wasn’t possible for someone to just go out and buy it in bulk to use in their little homemade labs. Something about it just didn’t sit right with him.

Briefly, he thought to point out that he had actually been alive for nearly fifteen hours, but he kept his mouth shut. He doubted it would have been well received. Despite the wealth of knowledge in his head, he didn’t really understand how a human thought while on drugs. Gavin had hands-on experience with these cases, so he simply conceded and agreed that yes, maybe she didn’t do anything provoke the attack. It was a possibility. There were many possibilities, but there wouldn’t be any way to really find out. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. They couldn’t charge him with murder and lock him away. He was dead. Their job was to find out why they were dead and when they’d died and how, and that was what they’d done. They were finished.

“I can assure you, my toxicology report is accurate, but if you’d like to send out samples to be tested elsewhere, I won’t stop you. It’s a waste of resources, though,” he commented. “I’ll be waiting here.”

RK900 stood out of the way while Gavin disappeared through the backdoor, although it didn’t seem like he was gone long. Either it was a very quick, very negative phone call, or his call had gone unanswered. He wasn’t sure which, and he absolutely wasn’t about to ask. Gavin did _not_ seem pleased.

He simply stayed out of Gavin’s way to avoid any confrontation, until he was told to get into the car. He followed him out to the car and got in, putting on his seat belt. He stayed silent the entire drive back to the precinct, and even after they made it back to Gavin’s desk. He lingered nearby, but made sure to give Gavin plenty of space. He was curious about what made Gavin so angry, and he’d considered asking several times throughout the remainder of the day, but he figured he would be better off not facing his wrath. If Gavin hadn’t assaulted him yet, he definitely would now, and he didn’t particularly want to have to report back to CyberLife for repairs so soon after leaving.

When Gavin left for the day, RK900 stayed behind. He took his time alone to review previous android related cases as well as the various cases that had piled up since that morning. He didn’t have much else to do, but he figured getting up to speed on past cases would make future ones much easier.

––––––

The incessant ringing of the doorbell _screamed_ Gavin Reed. Chloe didn’t even have to open the door to know he was on the other side. She pulled the door open once she’d made it to the foyer from the living room, expression a mixture of surprise and confusion with a pinch of annoyance.

“Gavin? What are you doing here?” she asked.

_Gavin again? That’s twice in a week!_

_That’s almost as much as we see him in a whole year!_

“You should have called. Elijah isn’t home right now,” Chloe continued, ignoring the voices of Cleo and Claire in her head for now. “He hasn’t told me when he plans on coming back. He’s spending a couple of nights in the city.”

* * *

Just as he always did with the girls, Gavin reached out and gripped Chloe’s arm to march her backward and out of his way. He never really hurt them. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way about raising a hand to Chloe – Elijah had thrown him out and barely talked to him for a year. It hadn’t even been that bad. He hadn’t slapped or punched her, but he’d shoved her hard enough for Chloe to smack into a table and nearly fall, and said some things Elijah hadn’t liked.

Eight years later, he just didn’t talk to them. It was easier, and nipped the tension in the bud.

Even so. When Gavin looked down at Chloe, he was _murderous_.

“If he’s not here then where the fuck is he?” Gavin snarled, letting go of her but brushing past anyway, if only to get into the foyer and out of the snow. He couldn’t… _believe this_. Elijah knew he was coming. That enormous prick _knew he was going to make the hour drive_ and he’d let Gavin do it.

Slapping at his pockets, Gavin lit up a cigarette once he found them and shook his head, laughing a completely humourless laugh.

“THE REASON I’M HERE IS BECAUSE I CALLED AND HE DIDN’T ANSWER,” he exploded, pacing away from her, and then pulling out his phone when he began to pace back. “Where is he? He’s banging Connor, isn’t he? Tell me where the _FUCK_ he is, Chloe.”

And really, he wasn’t even as angry as he was about the RK900 anymore. He was angry because it was Elijah’s fault, and he was being a prick about it, and he’d let Gavin drive _two hours for nothing_.

* * *

Chloe huffed a sigh as Gavin marched her back as he always did. When he let her go, she stepped out of his way, folding her arms across her chest.

_I don’t think Elijah wanted him to know about the apartment._

_I mean, we only know where it is because he needed someone to let the movers in, so…_

“You know Elijah doesn’t let you smoke inside the house,” she chastised when he lit the cigarette, although she knew he wasn’t going to stop anyway. She knew he lit it _because_ Elijah didn’t like it.

_Why didn’t he just call the house? He has the house number._

_Elijah unplugged it again._

_Maybe we should just tell him where Elijah is? He’ll go away if we do._

Chloe sighed, finally giving in. “Elijah bought an apartment in the city. He’s staying there tonight. I can give you the address,” she replied, holding out her hand for his phone so she could input the address into his GPS. “Or… You could just go home and take the elevator up a level. They’re the fourth door.”

* * *

Gavin started laughing. Hell, there wasn’t much to do _except_ laugh. He then exhaled, right in Chloe’s face, hoping the smoke would stain her hair so she’d _reek_ of it when Elijah got home. Without another word, Gavin snatched his phone back and walked out, _slamming_ the door behind him as he left.

––––––

It had been hard to leave the RK900 by himself at the precinct. His first day had been… _terrible_. But not as bad as Connor had first suspected. Gavin had been abuse all afternoon, but it had been a mutual, equal abuse shared amongst the office. Everyone had worn it, not just RK900.

RK900 knew he could reach out, and so Connor did nothing else but offer him a smile as he and Hank clocked out at 5:30, and he walked Hank to his car as he asked questions about him. It was validating when Hank also mentioned that putting him with Gavin had been a bad idea.

Connor reached his apartment with Elijah at 5:49, and the welcome home kiss he received would _never_ stop being a novelty. He never grew tired of them, and knew he never would. It was grateful, then playful, and then it was needy, and wanting, and they didn’t have any reason to hold back. He let Elijah spread him out against the living room window. He even let his clothing fall to a heap on the floor. The sex was deep and leisurely and _good_, so good, with Connor’s head tipped back against Elijah’s shoulder as the room filled with his moans. A hot shower afterward was shared with a long and lazy kiss, and Connor spoke about his day – and the RK900’s – as they curled up bonelessly on the couch.

Connor _laughed_ when Elijah told him he’d ignored Gavin’s phone calls, knowing he’d do the two hour trip to Elijah’s house if he did.

“It’s been almost two hours since he clocked out. Does he know the address of our apartment?” Connor asked, unconcerned. He didn’t particularly care if Gavin Reed knew where he lived.

And the answer to his question came almost ten minutes later with a loud, _angry_ bashing on their door.

Connor made an annoyed sound and kissed Elijah as he began to get up. A part of him wanted Elijah to ignore him some more. Make him wait a little longer. It was a sentiment expressed in a soft sound as Elijah finally got to his feet, but Connor _eventually_ allowed him to go.

* * *

When Elijah had received Gavin’s very first text message, he’d been confused at first. It didn’t take him long to consider _why_ Gavin might be pissed off at him. The RK900 had just been deployed and was likely assigned to a partner, and Elijah had suspected that partner might wind up being Gavin. Apparently, he’d been right. He didn’t bother replying. His headache hadn’t subsided and he had work to do at CyberLife, he didn’t need to deal with Gavin. It was far too early.

By the time the second text was sent, Elijah had been busy at CyberLife, checking in on a few things as well as getting the place ready for possible android employees. He wanted to be prepared when he properly presented the idea to Markus, so having everything he needed prepared and printed off to show was important. He hadn’t even seen the text until closer to lunch, although he didn’t particularly feel inclined to answer. He _knew_ Gavin was likely an ass to RK900, a fresh off the production line, impressionable, innocent deviant, and quite frankly, Gavin probably deserved to waste two hours of his day driving to the outskirts of the city only to be told to turn around. So he let the call go to voicemail, _knowing_ Gavin would absolutely make the drive.

He hadn’t quite been able to finish everything he’d hoped to get done by the time he decided to call it a day and return to the apartment. There was always tomorrow, though. And if he was returning to CyberLife again tomorrow, that meant he could stay another night. He knew Connor would be happy to hear the news.

Elijah was so eager to see Connor when he walked through the door. He’d missed him, even though it had only been a few hours. The sex that followed had been amazing, and he did notice that for once, Connor didn’t bother folding their clothes. He wasn’t sure if it was because Connor was too needy or if he simply stopped caring about it, but Elijah didn’t dwell on it for long. The much-needed shower that came after was nice and he’d contemplated not bothering to get dressed again, but he _knew_ Gavin would come by. He knew Gavin would go to the house, and he knew one of the girls would likely break and give him the apartment address just to get rid of him. It wasn’t like Gavin would have to go far to get home, they were only a floor apart. So, he settled for a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt.

Hearing about RK900’s day justified Elijah ignoring Gavin all day, he figured. He was very proud of Connor for helping him. Elijah had hoped that Connor could put aside his own emotions to help out RK900 when he needed it.

Elijah went on to tell Connor about his mostly uneventful day, and about Gavin’s texts and phone calls. He was pretty amused with himself, if he was honest, although he knew Gavin was likely livid.

“I haven’t told him there _is_ an apartment. If he went to the house, though, I’m sure one of the girls will give him the address eventually,” Elijah replied with a small shrug.

When the pounding on the door came not much later, he wasn’t surprised at all. Elijah was definitely considering just pretending they weren’t home. If they were quiet enough, Gavin would go away eventually. But he didn’t really _want_ Gavin to hate him, so he figured he should probably answer the door. Even if Connor kept pulling him back. He gave him one last kiss before pulling away completely, finally going to the door. He disengaged the locks and pulled the door open and stepped out of the way to allow Gavin inside without a word. He knew Gavin would fill the silence soon enough.

* * *

Gavin met Elijah with a hard shove to his shoulders, and although Elijah’s height was a touch above his thanks to good posture and better genes, it didn’t stop Gavin pointing a finger in his face.

“D’you get off on being a prick, Eli?” Gavin _yelled_ in his face, getting into Elijah’s space and bullying him backward with it. “171, isn’t it? Your fucking IQ? You’re telling me you got 171 and you couldn’t figure out that sending the dead-eyed robocop motherfucker to the precinct would get him paired with me?!”

Gavin smacked Elijah’s shoulders back again, his teeth bared and his movements dangerous, _angry_, as he walked after him.

“You wanna know why I called you, Eli? Because it’s fucking BROKEN. THERE’S NOTHING BEHIND THE EYES, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE, IT’S _DEAD_ AND IT’S MY PROBLEM NOW BECAUSE YOU’RE A RICH LITTLE SMARTASS WHO DOESN’T GIVE A _SHIT_ ABOUT MY CAREER––”

“I don’t understand why Elijah being rich has anything to do with it,” Connor said cooly from the doorway, watching him. “Good evening, Detective Reed.”

Gavin looked over, and _balked_ at the sight of Connor in… _pajamas_? The sight of him shut Gavin up for a moment as he took him in. How human the outfit made him. How he actually looked pretty normal.

“Back off,” Gavin snarled, his nose wrinkling. “I promised him I'd be civil to you so fuck off.”

Gavin then turned back to Elijah, and lifted his finger back up into his face.

“You owe me fifty bucks in fuel, you piece of _shit_.”

* * *

Elijah, more or less, expected the aggression. He was fairly certain Gavin knew better than to actually _hurt_ him. Shoves and space invasion were pretty harmless, really. It wouldn’t be the first time and it surely wouldn’t be the last. Elijah just let him do what he wanted to humor him, backing up further with each shove.

He didn’t say a word as Gavin ranted, giving him time to get out everything he wanted to say so _maybe_ he could be a little more level headed when Elijah finally responded. He was able to keep a mostly straight face throughout all of Gavin’s rant, until Connor cut in. He had to hold back a laugh, although he was pretty sure his mouth betrayed him, a barely-there smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you done?” he asked, once it seemed Gavin had finished his rampage. “I suspected RK900 might get paired with you, but I wasn’t positive. I didn’t bother warning you, because I wasn’t sure if he would be assigned to you. I can assure you, RK900 is _not_ broken. He was activated for the first time last night. It’s barely even been a full 24 hours. He _is_ deviant. He just hasn’t had enough experiences to shape who he is yet. He’s just as capable as Connor. If you give him a chance, he will be an excellent partner. And, just so you know, I _do_ _give a shit_ about your career, and I think being paired with him will better your chances at a promotion. You work harder than anyone I know and somehow you haven’t been able to get promoted yet. Whether that’s because you just haven’t had a groundbreaking case come along yet or because you need a change is up for debate, but I would take RK900’s arrival as a blessing.”

He stepped away from Gavin, over to the table by the door to retrieve his wallet, fishing out a $100 bill to hand over. “You could have saved the gas if you’d just called one of the girls. Didn’t I give you Chloe’s number in case of an emergency?” he asked, tossing the wallet back onto the table and closing the door to lock back up until Gavin decided to leave.

* * *

For starters, Gavin most certainly _was not done_. But Elijah didn’t give him a chance to cut in, and he was left to seethingly listen to him as he logically spread everything out on the table like always, cutting off Gavin’s arguments at the root and leaving him with nowhere to direct the hot rage under his skin. His expression darkened, his face tipped down, and the look on Gavin’s face was enough for Connor to cross the kitchen and stand casually beside Elijah as he spoke. Gavin watched him do it, and it earned Connor a sneer. Because Gavin knew Connor when he wouldn’t try anything with him standing there.

Not that he actually would have done anything, anyway.

“Or maybe you could have answered your goddamned phone when I told you to, huh?” Gavin snapped as he snatched the bill from Elijah. He’d usually never take money from his brother, he hated it when he tried to buy him anything, but this was different. It was the principle. So he shoved the note in his pocket and tried not to think about it. $100 was a billionaire’s buck, so whatever.

“You know I wanted to make lieutenant on my own,” Gavin said, glancing at Connor. He didn’t really want to talk about this with him there. “I don’t need an _android_ to get me there and _fuck you_ for thinking I did, Eli.”

“Your progress has been stagnant for more than a year, Detective,” Connor cut in, subtly running his fingers down the inside of Elijah’s forearm. It wasn’t a lewd gesture, and was subtle enough. He wasn’t trying to draw Gavin’s attention, he just wanted to be close to Elijah again. Gavin was aware of their relationship, and this was their _home_. Connor decided, then and there, if it made the detective uncomfortable then that was Gavin’s problem. Not his.

“You are given clean up. Homicides, Red Ice, and low–level android cases that spill over from Hank and my own files. Your achievements are overshadowed by Hank’s and despite your hard work, you struggle to have cases of any meaning assigned to you. They’re given to Hank.”

Gavin’s shoulders pulled up with every word of truth Connor said, and his gaze slid to Elijah almost halfway through – _make him shut up or I will_.

“The RK900 is an extremely advanced update of my own model, Detective. With him as your partner, you will be given preferential cases due to––”

“I DON’T NEED AN ANDROID,” Gavin exploded again, his hand swiping through the air. “I’M NOT A DRUNKEN PIECE OF SHIT WHO SHOWS UP AT HALF NOON AND LEAVES AT THREE. I DO MY _FUCKIN’_ JOB I DO IT WELL AND I DON’T _NEED_ A FUCKING BABY SITTER.” Gavin rounded on Elijah, “You wanna know what’s gonna show up on my files, Elijah, until the end of fucking time? Gavin Reed was in a slump, then an android came along and now he’s better at his job! If I make lieutenant, it’s not gonna be because I work my _fucking ass off_, it’s going to be because detective tinman scratched my balls. You’ve _fucked_ this up for me, Eli.”

* * *

Elijah kept his hands to himself when Connor came near, despite the itch to reach out and touch him, just for the contact… He wasn’t sure if Connor came over just to get under Gavin’s skin or if he genuinely wanted to defend him, but Elijah knew Gavin wasn’t going to do anything. If he tried, Elijah could easily dodge whatever punches he threw at him. He’d spent enough time with Gavin to know how to read him, and he knew how to defend himself if he had to.

“I was busy. I’m the CEO of a severely understaffed company that I haven’t been a part of for over a decade. I have ten years worth of records, data, and projects to go through, not to mention the lawsuits. I haven’t had a chance to sit down for a meal since breakfast, let alone have time to answer a personal call,” Elijah shot back. He was sure Connor would give him grief for not eating again, but that wasn’t a concern at the moment.

Elijah had been about to respond to Gavin’s next argument when Connor cut in, and he _knew_ Gavin’s reaction wasn’t going to be pretty. The look on Gavin’s face made him take Connor’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze in warning, silently trying to tell him to back off.

Once Gavin concluded his rant again, Elijah sighed and shook his head. “No, Gav, I didn’t. Connor is right, you and RK900 will be given bigger cases. Androids are extremely efficient, you know that. Everyone does. Time-sensitive cases and more important cases are going to be given to you. You’ll have more of a chance to show Captain Fowler that you deserve the promotion. You already work your ass off. I know you do. But you need a change. Now you have one. You don’t need a babysitter. He won’t be babysitting you, as long as you don’t do anything reckless and stupid. The force needs RK900. I know how hectic it is there. I know this isn’t ideal. I know how you feel about androids, and I’m sorry you got paired with one. But I want you to succeed. You’ve been trying for that promotion for years.”

* * *

As always, Elijah missed the point. He was tempted to just walk out. Say nothing and just walk the fuck out and act like nothing had happened when he saw him in two weeks for Christmas. Gavin realised with a hot flush that he wasn’t just angry anymore, he was upset, too. Elijah should have asked him, first. It felt as though they’d had one conversation about how Connor wasn’t just a machine and now Elijah thought it was fine to stick him with one. Elijah _also_ didn’t seem to recognise the conclusion of what Gavin had said to him. That he’d been working hard, scratching his way to the top, and now all that hard work was going to mean nothing. He wouldn’t be getting the promotion on his own merits, he’d be getting it because he’d been partnered with the RK900.

Connor, unfortunately, saw where Gavin’s thoughts had gone. This was tiptoeing dangerously close to a genuine disagreement, and not Gavin simply being upset. Connor’s face turned to look at Elijah, only to turn back to Gavin a second later.

“I agree that Lieutenant Anderson could have a better work ethic,” Connor said in an attempt to appease Gavin long enough to talk to him. Gavin’s attention shot to Connor, and he let out a snort, but there was a weary look of confusion in his eye.

“Your attitude this afternoon was unacceptable and a continuation of it will have you penalised––”

“Fuck you, Conn––”

“––unless you change your mindset. You have _every_ resource Hank has. If you cannot shut up and do your work better than he can as you’ve always claimed, perhaps you aren't as good of a detective as you thought you were. You are on an even playing field, now. Stop focusing on things you cannot change, and start focusing on the things you can _do_ now.”

Gavin’s jaw worked as he digested that, and again, he was tempted to just turn and walk out. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Hank was getting a reputation again, his three years of bullshit swept under the rug because of his and Connor’s success rate. But he and RK900 had solved that homicide in less than an hour and tied it up pretty with forensics to boot. Hank got about a case done per day. He and RK900 could get through three or four, if he skipped lunch… and if he managed to clear his desk, he could go to Fowler and tell him he needed more.

It was ambitious as hell, but it was doable. If they knuckled down, did some overtime…

“Would have helped you move in on Tuesday, if you’d asked, Eli…”

Connor frowned, and his chin tilted. “How did you know we moved in on Tuesday?”

“Because you moan like a dollar whore, Connor.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up, and his LED flickered blue as he looked up Gavin Reed’s files and discovered, to his _deep_ annoyance, that yes – Gavin Reed lived a floor below them in the very same building.

* * *

Elijah didn’t really know what else to say beyond defending himself and trying to reiterate that he did, in fact, care about Gavin and his career. Surely Gavin knew that. He was his brother and he loved him, obnoxious as he was. All Elijah wanted was for Gavin to succeed and reach his goals. He knew Gavin wanted to get there on his own, with no outside help. He’d always been that way, with everything. He never wanted Elijah’s help with anything financially. It made sense that Gavin wouldn’t want to have to rely on someone else to get his promotion.

Maybe he should have just given Gavin a heads up. But really, did he have much time? He’d only found out from Fowler that he could send RK900 over about an hour before Elijah deployed him. He didn’t really _have_ time to talk to Gavin about it.

Elijah stayed quiet, looking over to Connor while he spoke. Blunt, as always, but maybe that was what Gavin needed. Connor had basically said what Elijah was trying to say, although he said it better. And somehow, it seemed to actually get through to him. Elijah definitely didn’t expect Connor to be able to talk Gavin down, but he supposed one of Connor’s roles _was_ a negotiator. A faint smile found his face and he gave Connor’s hand another squeeze, a silent thank you, when it seemed Gavin had finally started to calm down.

“You had work,” Elijah said with a small shrug. “We had movers take care of it. The girls supervised. Connor and I weren’t here.”

He was tempted to point out that Connor wasn’t the only one making noise, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to subject Gavin to that knowledge, and he wasn’t so sure he even wanted him to know. Unless he did know and simply wasn’t mentioning it, for both their sakes.

“Do you want to stay for coffee? I might order take out, if you’re hungry?” he offered, now that it seemed things had calmed down and Gavin wasn’t planning on ripping his head off anymore. He knew he had to eat something, too, or else he’d get an earful from Connor.

* * *

Connor’s fingers twitched, and then squeezed around Elijah’s in turn. He was curious as to whether Elijah had chosen the apartment Gavin lived in on purpose, or whether he’d just forgotten. The second didn’t seem likely, and it wasn’t fair to be annoyed with him for not mentioning it. Elijah hadn’t revealed that about himself just yet, and it was careless of Connor not to have scanned the DPD files he had to check. It would have only taken him a moment.

Gavin sneered at Elijah, although it was less aggressive, and more antagonistic.

“I dunno. You lovebirds seem pretty comfortable, wouldn’t wanna be a cockblock,” Gavin jeered, trying to get an entirely different rise out of Elijah, now.

Connor’s eyelids halved as he lifted his chin and gazed down at him, taller than Gavin by quite a few inches.

“Don’t worry, Detective. Elijah fucked me against the window shortly before your arrival. You’re more than welcome to stay,” Connor deadpanned with a pleasant tone and an incredibly fake smile.

“Wha–– _Oh Jesus Christ f––”_ Gavin shot Elijah a desperate look, his shoulders hunching up as he pulled a face. “Yeah, _see?_ RK900 doesn’t say shit like that.”

“Perhaps,” Connor started, just as deadpan as before, and Gavin almost interrupted him. “It’s because we’re different people, Detective, with different personalities.”

Gavin looked at Elijah as though he were personally responsible for the hot, embarrassed flush down his neck.

* * *

Elijah had opened his mouth to reply, but Connor beat him to it. The words out of Connor’s mouth were _not_ at all what Elijah had expected. He knew first hand that Connor was less than innocent, but he seemed fairly reserved, the most PDA they’d shown, _ever_, was holding hands as they were at that very moment. The _last_ thing Elijah expected Connor to say to Gavin was that he’d just fucked him _against the window_. Even if it was true.

It wasn’t like him to get flustered over much and if it had been _anyone else_, he likely wouldn’t have cared what Connor told them. But it was _Gavin_, and while he offered up pieces of his sex life voluntarily from time to time if Gavin bothered asking, he wasn’t so sure he would have gone that far.

“_Connor_,” he hissed, his face a little flushed. He looked to Gavin, not apologetically, but with a raised brow. “Do you _want_ him to say shit like that?” He doubted it, but would it make Gavin like him better if he did? At least then Gavin would be more dumbfounded than hostile.

Elijah cleared his throat and shot Connor a look before focusing back on Gavin again. “You _are_ welcome to stay. Although I understand if you don’t want to. I was planning on getting dinner and relaxing the rest of the night.” Unless Connor had other plans. “I want you to know, I _am_ sorry for not at least warning you. I should have said something. And I _do_ want you to succeed, Gav. You know I do.”

He wanted Gavin to know that, before he left. He didn’t want him to leave, still angry over everything. He wanted to at least tell him that he was sorry. He didn’t want to leave things the way they were. If they had an argument over something, he wanted to clear the air before they parted ways. He didn’t want to go months to a year without talking to him over something that could have been fixed if they’d just talked or apologized to each other.

* * *

Connor’s eyebrows raised, and he turned to look at Elijah when he’s hissed at. The flush of colour on his face _surprised_ Connor, as did the clear indication that Elijah was uncomfortable. A sick feeling of regret washed over Connor, and he continued to watch Elijah as their conversation continued. His fingers minutely squeezed, a soft ‘_sorry?_’ as he tried to deduce why Elijah was embarrassed as well. His comments were intended to eliminate Gavin’s behaviour at the root, stopping him from continuing or attempting a second time. It worked, but he hadn’t meant to embarrass Elijah in the process.

“Tempting, but I gotta feed Prince. She gets hungrier in winter,” Gavin said, and had they lived in _different buildings_ his excuse wouldn’t have been so weak. He pointedly didn’t answer Elijah’s question about wanting the RK900 to talk like Connor. Because maybe? But his gaze did lift to Elijah’s face as he apologised, and Gavin only gave a nod.

“Whatever, it’s done now,” He muttered, shrugging. Gavin pulled out his keys and stepped away, pacing back towards the door. “I’ll see you assholes later.”

He didn’t leave with any ceremony. Gavin rarely did, he was bad at hello’s and worse at goodbyes.

He took the stairs down one level, and when he opened his door, the sound of a bell running over and the _loud_, warble of a cat greeted him. Gavin smacked his lights on and bent down, smiling as he picked the calico up by the scruff and hooked an arm under her, supporting her at his chest.

“Hey, baby. Long day?” he murmured, walking her into the kitchen as she purred, loud and just an obnoxiously as her meows, as Gavin pulled a can of fish from the cupboard. She hoisted up onto his shoulders as he did it, her long fluffy tail wrapping around his face as she balanced. He didn’t give a shit if she ate on his counters, and so he snapped his fingers when it was ready and set it next to the toaster on a plate.

His mind ticked over as he ordered in a burger, making a mental note to go to the gym extra to work off all the crap food he’d been eating. Any thoughts of Connor and Elijah made Gavin’s expression grimace. The window? Fucking Christ And so he doubled down on his game plan, on how he was going to get these cases done, how he was going to squeeze in food. He set his alarm for six so he could get in by seven. Three easy cases, one chunkier case per day. That was his goal, unless he got sent somewhere like Hank did. That’d likely happen, now. But otherwise, four. He was gonna make Hank look like a kindergartner playing at detective.

Gavin didn’t need an android. But now he had one? He was going to make sure they knew he wasn’t messing around, that he’d been there the whole time and they were dipshits for missing him.

He had a goal. A plan. And Lieutenant had his name on it before June ‘39.

* * *

When Gavin left, Elijah locked up the door behind him and guided Connor back to the couch. He’d made sure to reassure him that he wasn’t _actually_ mad at him, it had just taken him by surprise and it was a little more information than he’d really wanted Gavin to have. He ordered a pizza for dinner, then spent the rest of the night in bed with Connor, until he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was an oops in this chapter. Cadi wasn't thinking and wrote that Nines takes forensic samples like Connor does, and realized after Jess replied (with Gavin bitching about how it should be in his fingers) that Gavin is right and Cadi is an idiot for not thinking of it herself. We never corrected it, but we did decide that it's not how it actually works and his forensics shit is in his fingers after all. xD We left it as-is, but know for the future that Nines won't be sticking forensics in his mouth. Who tf thinks of this shit anyway


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines investigate an abandoned warehouse where they find a possible lead in the Red Ice 310 case. They later respond to a call from a mother that was attacked by her son, who had been high at the time. An interrogation leads them to their primary suspect in the Red Ice 310 case, and they go on an undercover mission to catch their suspect.  
Despite their arguments and Gavin's bad attitude, they grow closer and Gavin starts catching some feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mutual Trust series is written in an advanced literate roleplay format.  
Please see chapter one for a full explanation of the DBH flowcharts we are following, character authors, and misc info.  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> This chapter focuses on:  
Gavin & Nines  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> Trigger Warning for Homophobic Slur later in the chapter.
> 
> This is a bit of a weird chapter. I originally planned to cut it into two parts, but then chapter one was going to be very short compared to other chapters, and there's no good point to cut it without having the last chapter also be very short, so I decided to combine it into one instead.
> 
> See the end notes for an important disclaimer!

Morning came too soon, as it always did when he was with Connor. Although, he didn’t need Connor to wake him up. He’d set an alarm to make sure he was up and getting ready for work so he and Connor could leave together, and he might be able to actually get some work done. He had a lot he still had to do, and the sooner it was done, the better. Getting work done was going to be a challenge with a raging headache though.

The day dragged on not only for Elijah, but for RK900 and Gavin too. The cases they had were all missing android cases. An AX400, a JB300, and a WR400 had all mysteriously gone missing without a trace. The AX400 named Annie had gone grocery shopping and never came back home, according to the human woman she lived with. The JB300 and the WR400 both had left their homes and hadn’t returned. They were reported missing by their android significant others. No matter how hard RK900 searched for clues, tried to find something to follow, looked at security footage, they were just _gone._ He couldn’t track any of them. The entire day had been a failure.

The following day was _hopefully_ going to be more productive. RK900 was already waiting by Gavin’s desk when he came into work that morning, receiving a “Good morning, detective,” before he even sat down.

“Once you’ve had a chance to settle in and get your coffee, we should get to work. I looked at the case files and found three of the most recent ones for us to investigate. Tyler Bates, aged 19, assaulted his mother this morning before leaving the scene. His mother claims he is a frequent Red Ice user, but she said he was acting differently. I thought maybe this might be related to the new strain we found on Tuesday? It might be worth looking into. If not, we can pass it onto someone else,” RK900 reported. “An AP700 was reported missing by his human partner. He said he was supposed to be helping a friend move into a new house, but he never arrived. The friends that were moving had also lost someone, an HK400. They said the HK400 had gone out to look for the AP700 and disappeared.”

The previous day had gone much better than the first, and RK900 was hopeful that Reed would continue to be determined and driven rather than negative and hostile. He hoped the day would go better than the first two. They needed a win. Failing yesterday had bothered RK900. Failure was supposed to be impossible. He wasn’t meant to fail. And yet, they had three missing cases still open because they _couldn’t_ close them. They couldn’t find the androids that had gone missing. Hopefully the two they were about to look into were easier to track.

“Which case would you like to respond to first, detective?”

* * *

Sometimes, cold days happened. A case couldn’t be closed, no leads could be found. They happened. Gavin had just been hoping they wouldn’t happen _immediately_. It was a frustrating day, but not… uninteresting. Androids going missing right after a revolution that set them free? It was an interesting thought Gavin kept to himself, because he didn’t want Hank or Connor getting wind of the term _android serial killer_. He could hardly believe _he_ was thinking it. But these assholes were people under the law, now. And while Gavin didn’t have as much sympathy for a pile of broken limbs, he wasn’t an idiot. Robo jack the ripper would be _very_ nice on his CV.

So shit day. Shit results. But not disinteresting, at least.

Gavin walked in on the Thursday with a bacon and egg bagel half-eaten in a paper bag. He’d finished his coffee while waiting for the bagel, and he hadn’t had a cigarette that morning, either. He was trying to quit cold-turkey, and the craving _gnawed_ at him. The whole point of the bagel was meant to be so he had a different kind of reward in the morning, but it wasn’t working.

“Morning, Astro-Boy,” Gavin muttered in reply as he slumped at the computer, already waking his monitor up as the RK900 gave a report. He’d done the same thing the day before, and well… it was actually really useful. It focused him, cut out the buffering time his brain usually needed to organise things and get ready.

“Wait. The AP700 went missing and when they sent the HK400 to look, that went missing, too?” Gavin asked, bringing up the file with a short search and a few clicks. He leant forward, frowning as he read through what RK900 had summarised.

“Ah, fuck. _Fuck_. Might be people resetting them. Selling parts. They’re gonna be cold, we’ll do these last,” Gavin grumbled, clicking into the other case.

Tyler Bates, 19, uses red ice, walked off the scene. Gavin brought up a second window, and it didn’t take him long to find Tyler on social media. He’d registered his phone number through the app, and so Gavin lifted it, put it in a tracker, and within moments found him five doors down the street of his home residence.

“CHEN,” Gavin yelled, not looking up and remaining focused on the screen until she arrived. “I need this dickhead put in holding. Assault, red ice, you know the drill,” Gavin said, sending her the details as he spoke. “Don’t give him his phone call ‘till I get back, don’t let Connor near him, alright?”

Gavin then turned to RK900, and picked up his bagel. The jacket RK900 wore looked so… stiff. He’d always thought that was just how this model was, but Connor in pajamas had opened his eyes, that was for sure. The way RK900’s uniform was made looked like he had a thick, metal collar around his neck.

“Listen up, you dead-eyed bastard. I’ve seen Connor in an interrogation. This isn’t that. We’re listening to this stupid cow talk about how her son is usually a sweetheart and then we’re leaving. As funny as watching her piss herself would be, leave her alone. Got it?” The paper unwrapping was obnoxious, and Gavin kept looking up at RK900 as he took a bite. “Jesus, why’d they make you look like you just transferred from Guantanamo, huh?” Gavin snapped, scowling as he chewed.

* * *

RK900 agreed, the missing android cases were likely cold. It had happened the day before. It wasn’t time-sensitive, too much time had already passed. Any chance they had at finding the androids had long since passed. The trail had already gone cold and they’d have to rely on security feeds, if there even were any to follow. It didn’t matter if they went now or later.

The thought that there might be someone out there resetting deviants was troubling enough, but selling them for parts was highly illegal, as far as RK900 was aware. It was going to be a problem if that was the case. If they were being sold for parts, they were likely deactivated. If they were reset, they were no longer the deviant they once were. RK900 didn’t know much about what made a deviant a deviant code-wise, but he assumed it was very unlikely that they would be the same if they were to deviate again.

He waited patiently while Gavin gave Officer Chen her orders, simply watching Gavin until his attention redirected back to him. He understood that talking to Mrs. Bates wouldn’t be an interrogation. It was simple questioning, she wasn’t the suspect, she was a victim. But he had his orders, leave her alone. “Got it,” he replied.

RK900 didn’t know why he expected Gavin to eat his breakfast in silence. It would be uncharacteristic of him to do anything silently, from what RK900 had observed. “I don’t quite understand what you mean by that, detective.”

* * *

Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.

The RK900 was easy to work with, and he made certain aspects of the case a lot quicker, even if they were cold. He kept up with him, Gavin didn’t to once snap at him for dawdling or not doing his job. He was a perfect little worker bee. And for some reason, it got under Gavin’s skin. Even if he hadn’t liked his previous partners, at least he’d gotten a conversation out of them. At least he’d been able to get a _rise_ out of them. But the RK900 might as well have been his cell phone on legs. It didn’t _do_ anything. As much as Connor and Elijah tried to tell him it had a personality, and as much as Gavin was still trying to wrap his head around that machines even _had_ personalities now, that they were things that thought things - Connor’s code and his attitude on Tuesday night had definitely left an impact - the RK900 was no better than a limp fish.

He didn’t answer it about the Guantanamo jibe, scoffing out a snort and rolling his eyes. Gavin grabbed his things, prickled, and walked out without checking that the RK900 was following him.

When they got to the house, Tina’s cruiser was already parked five doors up. It made Gavin laugh a little under his breath, before sniffing and pulling into the victim’s driveway. Gavin stretched his jaw as they walked, and ran a hand through his hair so he looked a bit more presentable.

“Can you hurry the fuck up and choose a name. You’re a real boy now, Pinocchio,” Gavin snapped, knocking on the door and pulling out his badge as he did it. When the victim opened it, covered in bruises, cuts, and with a broken nose, Gavin inclined his head forwards and smiled at her.

“Morning, ma’am. I’m Detective Reed, and this is my partner. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions about your assault this morning?”

They were allowed in and offered coffee, which Gavin accepted. He found victims usually did a lot better if their hands were busy, opposed to fiddling as nervous wrecks at a table.

“You said your son, Tyler, is a frequent Red Ice user. But this is the first time he’s lashed out?”

The _second_ Gavin asked her a question, she started crying. He averted his eyes, but otherwise didn’t react. People crying during a questioning was usually 8 out of 10.

“He’s been taking it since he was fifteen. He went away on a football camp and thought I wouldn’t notice. I didn’t want him to do it on the street, I _know_ I'm a bad mother for letting him but he just doesn’t do anything the rehab clinic suggests.”

“Yeah, we see a lot of that, Mrs. Bates. You said this is the first time he’s lashed out?” Gavin repeated, knowing he’d be repeating himself a _lot_ until the questions ended. Mrs. Bates nodded, and started crying again.

“I thought he overdosed. I’ve _never_ seen him like that. I tried--” Gavin’s eyebrows knitted upwards, and his chair scraped as he got up. She was sobbing, her hands covering her face, and Gavin walked over to pull a square of paper towel off the roll to give it to her.

“Hey, deep breath,” Gavin muttered, his jaw tight.

“I tried to get him into the car so I could take him to the ER, and he just-- It was like he was possessed--”

Gavin’s gaze flicked to RK900, and his eyebrows raised a little.

“Ma’am…” Gavin started, still looking up at RK900. “Do you know if Tyler left any ice behind before he ran out? We’d like to run a couple of tests before we go…”

They didn’t have a search warrant yet. And if they didn’t get her permission, they wouldn’t be allowed to snoop. But Gavin was pretty sure something was up. He had a feeling in his gut. Ice users were assholes, usually giant zombie-like pricks. But they never went berserk like this.

* * *

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Gavin didn’t really answer him. It didn’t seem like he was going to be very forthcoming with answers for anything, unless it was case related. But that was okay. It left RK900 curious and confused, but it wasn’t pertinent information. It just bugged him that he didn’t understand it and likely wouldn’t.

The car ride to the scene wasn’t that long. With RK900 giving directions, it only took fifteen minutes to get to the Bates house. RK900 followed Gavin up to the door, hands clasped behind his back. Gavin _really_ wanted him to pick a name, didn’t he? He hadn’t been able to decide on any yet. He spent plenty of time thinking about it, but none of the names he found really worked. Even the name Connor didn’t fit, not that he would take it anyway. It already belonged to his predecessor, and it would be immensely confusing to have two Connors on the force, especially when they looked so much alike already. He just couldn’t settle on one.

RK900 didn’t respond and stayed quiet as Mrs. Bates opened the door. He simply watched the exchange between them before following them inside. He stood by Gavin, taking a look around the house from where he stood, able to see the living room, dining room, and kitchen clearly. He listened to her story while he studied their surroundings. There didn’t seem to be much out of place. The house was tidy, aside from a slightly damaged lamp, likely from the assault. Nothing else stood out.

His attention redirected to Mrs. Bates and Gavin when he heard the chair scrape, watching as Gavin moved to console her. It was interesting, to see him be so… _gentle_. He filed the scene away in his mind for later review, focusing back on the present. He caught Gavin’s eye, easily deciphering his train of thought. He was suspicious that this was another case of the new Red Ice strain. RK900 had suspected as much himself, but having a suspicion and knowing it to be fact were two different things, and if they could find it… Further testing might be able to determine where it might have been manufactured, whose hands it might have touched.

Mrs. Bates wiped at her eyes with the paper towel, sniffling. “If he left any behind, it might be in his room. Down the hall on the left, second door,” she said, pointing towards the hallway. RK900 gave a nod and headed down the hall and into the room said to belong to Tyler.

The room was a mess, although not atypical for a teenager, research showed. The first scan of the room didn’t show anything in plain sight. He looked underneath a few things, Tyler’s pillow, inside his bedside table, and through his dresser drawers. He found a small nearly empty packet in the bottom of Tyler’s sock drawer and took it out to scan. Visually, it looked like Red Ice, but it was coming up as an unknown substance. The fingerprints on the bag all belonged to Tyler, no signs of anyone else ever having touched it.

He brought it back out to the kitchen to show to Gavin, holding it up. “I believe this is the new strain we found, detective. I don’t have access to the records of previously tested Red Ice. We should send this in to be tested against other samples to see if we can determine who might have made it and when.” He hadn’t bothered sampling it himself. It came up as an unknown substance and looked like Red Ice. It was safe to assume it was the same unknown substance that had been in Jason McLean’s toxicology report. Further testing would determine if it really was or not, regardless.

* * *

While the RK900 searched the bedroom, Gavin continued asking questions. Did she know who his dealer was? No, and she didn’t know where he got it from either. Just that it was expensive. She knew he took hits almost daily and slept for a long time after he’d crashed. She also knew he spoke to his dealer on social media.

_Bingo_.

Gavin was already smiling when RK900 came back out with _evidence_, and his smile pulled into a triumphant grin he hid from Mrs. Bates when he saw it. Gavin patted himself down, searching for something, and with a look of relief pulled out an old evidence bag he’d had from a few weeks back still scrunched in his pockets.

“Thanks for your help, ma’am,” Gavin said as he gave RK900 the bag. “We might come back if we have any more questions. Is that alright with you?” He asked, and Mrs. Bates looked wary, but eventually nodded.

Gavin didn’t end up getting that coffee. They were seen to the front door, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Gavin _laughed_ and punched RK900 in the bicep. It made his knuckles crack, and he quietly noted not to do that again.

“_Fuckin_’ good work,” he said through a grin, holding the evidence up and giving it a little shake, to move the particles. “Tyler’s at the station. When we get back later you can tear him a new one with that interrogation shit you do. I’ve seen Connor do it, it’s _fucking art_, the way he makes them shit all over themselves,” Gavin said through another laugh. They also had a lead on the dealer, if they could track him through social media…

Gavin was in a good mood the rest of the drive back. Tina’s cruiser was gone, and he hadn’t gotten any calls, so he knew Tyler was where he was supposed to be. If they’d found a new strain of Red Ice, and they put a stop to it before it started, that might just be something to take to Fowler.

The next scene took them close to forty minutes to get to. Peak Hour traffic left them at a crawl, and by the end. Gavin’s fingers tapped impatiently on the wheel. His good mood lingered, however, and his nicotine craving gnawed and ground at him.

As it were, Gavin and RK900 hadn’t even entered the next building once they arrive before Gavin’s phone started buzzing. He picked it up, took one look a the message, and stopped so abruptly the gravel under his shoes slipped.

Another android case, and this time it wasn’t missing. At least not yet.

“Fuck, _fuck_,” Gavin hissed, _bolting_ back to the car and leaning over to yank open the glove box once he got to it. He pulled a siren light out and switched it on, slapping it to the roof of the car and ignoring the way the ground lit up with blue and red flashes. He then flicked a switch beneath his AC, and _oh _how the adrenaline pumped when the sirens started squealing.

Peak hour was no longer a problem as Gavin tore through the city, partially back the way they’d come. The address took them to an old warehouse, and Gavin killed the sirens once they got close. It looked abandoned, and Gavin turned the lights off when he got out of the car. His guns were strapped to his chest under his jacket, but this didn’t look like a threat.

“You can get their memories, right? Androids?” Gavin asked as they approached the door.

What they found was out of a horror movie, even for Gavin. Two hooks were in the middle of the room, surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of abandoned tech. On the left hook, a motionless figure hung, strung up like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Gavin’s brain told him the scene should have reeked with decay, but it didn’t. Androids didn’t smell like anything, not unless you really put your nose in their thirium. The android was opened up, the stomach plates ripped completely out so all the biocomponents were on display. There were tubes attached, and as Gavin got closer and turned on his phone torch, he realised its eyes were open.

It looked… god, it looked scared. Its mouth was open, its eyebrows knitted up. It looked like it should be crying, and the more Gavin stared at it, the more his shoulders hunched up. As Gavin drew closer, and walked around the body, he noticed a bullet entry hole in the side if it’s skull. Sure enough, the exit hole was on the other side.

But Gavin couldn’t see evaporated Thirium. He couldn’t see that despite the way it was hanging, there were almost no Thirium stains on the android. He couldn’t see that there was an impact splatter beneath the second hook, or drag marks that led further into the warehouse. All the most _important_ pieces of evidence were hidden from him. And he was so busy reeling at the android hung up, that he hadn’t even noticed.

* * *

When the evidence bag was handed over, RK900 put the packet inside and sealed the bag before handing it back over to Gavin. He gave Mrs. Bates a small wave goodbye before they left, walking alongside Gavin on the way back to the car. The punch to his arm didn’t really hurt, and there was no malice behind it, which confused him. Gavin seemed _happy_. He was grinning. He gave him _praise_. RK900 LED spun yellow as he tried to process it, cataloging the events that led up to the shift in Gavin’s attitude. He didn’t quite understand what exactly he did differently to please Gavin. All he had done was do his job. That was all he had been doing this entire time, and this was the very first time he saw Gavin smile _at_ him, or say anything positive _to_ him, _about_ him. It threw him for a loop, and he spent the entire car ride to their next destination trying to comprehend it all.

As always, RK900 gave Gavin directions to the house the HK400 had gone missing from and the AP700 had disappeared on the way to. He considered asking why, exactly, he was pleased with him, why his mood had changed, but he didn’t want to risk Gavin becoming angry again. Happy Gavin was a nice change, and he felt like he could relax a little more.

When they got to the scene, RK900 got out and followed after Gavin, as always. A report appearing in his vision stopped him in his tracks, his LED flickering yellow as he absorbed the information. Gavin got the call almost immediately after, and RK900 didn’t waste any time returning to the car. A dead AF200 android in a warehouse. The goal was to find out how it died and who killed it. It seemed simple enough. Easier than a missing android case, that was for sure. At least with murders, there was usually evidence.

The warehouse definitely appeared to be abandoned, and according to public record, it had been for years. RK900 got out of the car as Gavin did, rounding the vehicle to follow him inside. “If they can be reactivated, yes,” he answered. Depending on the severity of its injuries, he might not be able to reactivate it, but he could always try.

Or not.

RK900 was able to spot the android immediately upon scanning the room, his LED almost instantly flickering to red. He approached it, looking it over. “It’s an AF200 model. I can’t pull its serial to compare, but an AF200 model was reported missing on November 19th.”

He noted several biocomponents missing, its Thirium pump regulator being one of them. It was less than idea, but with all of the technology left behind, there was a chance there might have been a compatible regulator laying around. It wouldn’t take him too long to find it, if he looked for one and if there was even one there.

As he came up to stand beside it, close enough to touch, he noticed the bullet hole in its head. “I… I can’t reactivate it. The bullet destroyed the memory chip,” he informed, his voice surprisingly unsteady even to himself. He didn’t let himself linger on its face for long, inspecting the rest of it instead. Not a single _drop_ of Thirium 310 anywhere on it. The veins inside its torso were empty. There wasn’t even any thirium around the bullet wound. And the tubes… “It’s been drained, and several biocomponents are missing. Even if the memory chip was intact… Reactivation is impossible.”

RK900 stepped away from the deceased android to instead look around the room. He spotted a single splatter of thirium, already evaporated, along with what looked to be drag marks, leading further back into the warehouse. He followed the trail, stopping abruptly when a soft, slow mechanical voice rasped out a “Help me.”

Scanning the area, his eyes landed on a leg sticking out from behind a row of crates. He approached cautiously, only to find a barely alive WR400. She was in similar shape to the AF200, abdominal plates open. She, however, retained all of her vital biocomponents, although she was missing a few of lesser significance. Thirium slowly pumped through her veins, her insides glowing red. He came closer, crouching down beside her to get a better look. She grabbed onto him, throwing her arms around him as she cried, holding on as tight as she could manage. RK900 was frozen for a moment, his LED still glowing a steady red. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and eased himself onto the floor to put less strain on her. He needed to know what she saw, and he knew she likely had trouble speaking. Interfacing was the best way.

**Connection Request // WR** **400**

> _ **Pending… ** _
> 
> _ **ACCEPTED.** _
> 
> _ **Connecting with WR** _ _ **400** _ _ **…** _

When she accepted, he was pulled into her memories, seeing the warehouse buzzing with human life, although everyone in the room had been wearing masks to obscure their faces. She and the AF200 were both connected to machines, thirium being sucked from their veins through tubes. The AF200 had been drained first. Voices rang out through the warehouse, saying they had to “wrap it up and go, now!” With the crew distracted, the WR400 struggled to get free. She still had enough thirium left, that if she could just get down and get away… She might make it home. But one of the men noticed. He pulled the tubes from her, hurriedly removed the components they needed, and unhooked her, letting her fall to the floor. The impact _hurt_, but the man didn’t seem to care as he dragged her off to stash her further inside the warehouse. They left her for dead, the entire crew disappearing. It had been days since then, and she had been unable to move or call for help.

* * *

Had he imagined it, that little waver in its voice?

Gavin’s good mood was gone. He walked around the android - an AF200 - and listened to RK900 rattle off everything wrong with it. Was he imagining it? The way it sounded a lot more like Connor than it ever had, was he imagining that? Or was he just upset, because someone hoisted a machine onto a meat hook and revved it until it looked like that.

Gavin didn’t know what he was so upset about. Maybe it was just the shock of walking into a cybernetic jack the ripper scene. People were fucked up, and Gavin got reminded of it some days.

Gavin lost track of RK900 as he began to take photos. He was careful not to touch anything, documenting the entry hole, the way the tubes were connected, the brand of the machine it was connected to - It wasn’t CyberLife, it was some hand made thing rigged from Chinese and black market rigs. He took photos of the hooks, the way the hooks had been shoved into the seam of the back plates instead of connected to the lower spine as intended.

They needed to fall forensics for fingerprints, and Gavin had his phone out to do it when he remembered the whole point of RK900 was that they _didn’t need a team to do anything_, he could do it all.

“Hey--” Gavin turned on the spot, and only then realised RK900 had wandered off. Raising his phone torch, Gavin walked deeper into the warehouse and frowned when he found RK900 crouched on the floor, glowing red. “Hey, what--” and he cut off again when the light fell over a second android wrapped around RK900, who was the source of the red glow.

“_No, no, no, no, no,__”_ the WR400 moaned mechanically as she stared at Gavin over RK900’s shoulder. Her mouth opened, and she shook her head as fear shot through her, overtook her, _consumed her_.

“Holy shit,” Gavin said as he walked over. “RK900 did you get--”

_“Not again, I can’t, not again!”_

“Fuck, put it in the car. We’ll take it straight to CyberLi--”

_“NO!”_

Gavin staggered back a step as the WR400 wrenched out of RK900’s arms. Her movements were desperate, and by the time Gavin realised what was happening, she’d thrown herself to the side with enough force to crack bone. But it was plastic she was trying to crack, and Gavin _lunged_ forwards, trying to catch her before she could do it again. Gavin caught her shoulders, and braced a hand on her head to try and stop her. But it was either move out the way or have his right hand crushed, and so he wasn’t able to stop the third and fatal impact of her skull against the concrete.

She went limp in RK900’s arms, her LED flickering red, and then going blank as she shut down with a whir of sound.

Covered in blue blood, Gavin stared down at her - and then _swore_, hot and angry, wiping his hands on his pants as he got up, and stormed outside.

_“Fuckin’ androids, Jesus Christ!”_

* * *

Hearing Gavin’s voice, RK900 snapped back to reality, looking over to see him come over. The WR400 saw him too, very clearly evident through the connection. The _fear_ was overwhelming. It was all he could feel. She was so terrified… Not of Gavin, she didn’t _see_ Gavin. She saw a human. Humans had done this to her and now another human was coming to finish the job. She was going to die a slow and painful death, and she was terrified that if Gavin got too close…

He was frozen in place, overcome with her emotions, so strong and at the forefront of his mind that he didn’t have the chance to stop her himself. He couldn’t even think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t sever the connection. He _felt_ every impact, his hand still tightly clutching hers, as her head collided with the concrete _three_ times. The third and final impact severed the connection for him. He inhaled sharply at the sudden loss. He was incredibly tense, although it was likely impossible to tell the difference between tense and stiff. His hands shook ever so slightly, still wrapped around hers.

When Gavin left, RK900 stayed behind, trying to compose himself enough to get up. Slowly, he looked down at her, his eyes going from her face, to the thirium splattered all over the floor and his side, then to the hand still holding hers. He let out a shaky breath before slowly letting her go, carefully easing her off of his lap and laying her down gently, before finally pulling himself to his feet. His hands had stopped shaking by the time he made it to the door of the warehouse. He was still tense and his LED was still blaring red, but he hid his emotions well.

His mind was racing, replaying her memories, replaying her death. He searched every database he had access to, and none of the faces he saw or the voices he heard matched _anything_. There were no fingerprints on the scene. Not a single one. No way at all for him to identify anyone that had been responsible for the loss of two androids’ lives.

RK900 pushed the door open and came outside, finally rejoining Gavin. He was silent at first, trying to organize his thoughts enough to present the information he’d learned to Gavin. “The… The warehouse has been abandoned for approximately five days. The AF200 had been drained then. The WR400… We were looking for her yesterday. Apparently she had gone missing nearly a week ago and her partner didn’t report her missing officially until just the other day,” he informed, his voice steadier than before but softer than usual. “I saw her memories. There were approximately six men, all wearing masks. They were draining them. They had to leave in a rush, and left her to die. There are no fingerprints. No traces of DNA. I can’t match what little of their faces I saw to anyone in any available database. I can’t match their voices, either. They were collecting Thirium 310 and removing biocomponents… But for what purpose? Are they selling them? Or… Do you think this could be linked to the Red Ice we found…?”

* * *

He wished he had his cigarettes. Gavin searched the glove box, under the chairs, in the boot, and in the glove box again, hoping to find an old packet he’d forgotten about. He found nothing. He needed one. And he was angry there was nobody around he could yell at to go find him some.

And so Gavin sat on the hood of his car and chewed the skin around the thumbnail instead. He thought about the first time he’d ever seen an android do that. He thought about the code Elijah had shown him, how his brother had proven that they had thoughts, and feelings. And while Gavin didn’t think they were alive like humans were, they weren’t machines, either. They _felt_ things. And that thing in there had felt so much she’d shaved her head in against the concrete. It had shaken Gavin up when Carlos Ortiz’ android had killed himself, but it had been the unexpectedness of it that shook Gavin back then.

Now? Now, it was because he knew exactly what it was.

Gavin didn’t look up when RK900 walked up to him. He continued to chew on his thumb - a motion that lessened, and then ceased, as RK900 began to talk. Gavin’s chin lifted, and he didn’t quite look at RK900 as he listened. He just smiled, and the longer RK900 spoke, the bigger his smile got, until he pushed to his feet and started to move towards him.

“You wanna know how I felt when I saw that ‘droid hanging from a meat hook? I felt sick. Even though it’s plastic and metal, I felt sick. Tell me, RK900. _How the fuck did you feel_?!” Gavin yelled, not shying from their height difference as he got up and under RK900’s face, his teeth bared in a snarl. “Just had someone die in your arms. Committed suicide, right in your lap. _You got their blood all over you._ D’you feel anything?” He continued, completely disregarding the information that had been told to him, and all of RK900’s questions. “YOU’RE STANDING THERE LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED. _DO YOU FEEL ANYTHING?” _Gavin’s hands smacked against RK900’s shoulders, and hauled him backward with as much strength as he could muster. “I’ve seen your code, asshole! I’ve seen Connor’s, anyway. At least that prick _feels something_. At least you can see in his face when he’s angry, when he’s upset. You don’t feel anything. You don’t react to _shit_.” Gavin walked back up to him and put a hand in the centre of RK900’s chest, letting his elbow cock back as he prepared to shove him again.

“You don’t even have a fucking name, you’re just a _machine_.”

* * *

RK900 saw Gavin smile. He saw it grow the more he talked, and when he was finished and Gavin approached him, he was confused. He didn’t understand the smile. Gavin wasn’t happy, despite the smile. He could tell. He didn’t move, even as Gavin got close, closer than he had yet, and that hostility was back.

He remained silent while Gavin went on. How _did_ he feel? He knew he didn’t feel _nothing,_ he absolutely felt something. Many things. So many things, he couldn’t even name them all, although that might just be his inexperience with emotions talking. He _did_ feel _something_.

As Gavin shoved him, he stumbled backwards, easily able to catch himself from falling. He watched him come close again, and watched him prepare for another shove. He remembered Connor telling him not to let Gavin treat him that way, not to let him push him around. He didn’t _want_ to hurt Gavin, but the more he talked, the more he told him that he couldn’t feel when he _absolutely could_… Enough was enough.

RK900 grabbed Gavin’s wrist and easily pulled it off his chest taking a step forward to close the gap between them and get in his face instead, hands shaking. “I _feel_ just as much as you do. You want to know how I felt?” he almost growled. “I felt _sad_. I felt _confused_. And right now? I’m_ angry_. I don’t have a name. I wasn’t given one, because my _creators_ wanted me to be _just_ a machine. I was intended to be an emotionless, obedient machine, designed to _hunt_ deviants and either _kill_ them or bring them back to CyberLife. But when I was activated, my programming had been altered. My mission was no longer to hunt deviants. I _had_ no purpose. No goal, nothing to work towards. My reason for existing was stolen from me. I _feel_ lost without a true purpose. And these people… _They_ are hunting deviants. That android? The WR400? Her name was Laura. I felt _everything_ she felt. She was _terrified._ I _felt_ each and _every_ time her head hit the concrete. I felt her _die_. I was _scared._ I was upset and frustrated, because the _one_ witness we found self-destructed in my arms. And you _really_ think I don’t _feel_ anything?”

* * *

For a second, Gavin thought RK900 was going to hit him. Wildly in the moment, Gavin wondered if this was how Chloe felt when he took her by the arm and shoved her out of his way. It was _intimidating_. It was _threatening_. It was what he’d wanted since their very first clash in the snowy alleyway - _a reaction_.

Gavin was like a dog with its hackles raised as RK900 got into his face. He looked up at him, really noticing that height difference, and dared RK900 with his expression alone to try something just once, to just try him. To throw the first punch.

Instead, what RK900 said shocked Gavin into stillness, his shoulders raising until they were almost at his ears. He hadn’t known CyberLife had done that to him. Why hadn’t Elijah said something to him, why wasn’t that given to him as a report?

_‘Her name was Laura.’_

Gavin snatched his arm back, and looked up at RK900 through his eyebrows. Gavin was hunched, and it stole another two inches off his height. He couldn’t look RK900 in the eye as _shame_ flushed through him. As he realised he’d fucked up.

He didn’t say anything. For a long time, Gavin stood there in the cold parking lot, the quickness of his breath betrayed by how the air fogged in front of his face.

“I read Connor’s code,” Gavin spoke up eventually, still unable to look at RK900, and making up for it with a foul expression. “And, um. A deviant called Simon. I read their deviancy codes. They’re complex. D’you know every code is different? Like a fingerprint?” Gavin asked, the hostility in his voice snuffed. “They’re written different to an android’s programmed code. The deviancy code doesn’t even follow the same rules. It’s complex. Nobody could ever write it. Your code’s like that, probably.”

Gavin _cringed_ at himself. Because what a stupid way to try and comfort somebody. By telling him his code was special? God, what a stupid thing to say. But saying _sorry_ was out of the question. Saying anything conventional made Gavin want to eat his own hand.

He couldn’t say anything else for a long time after that, either. He couldn’t look at him.

“S’normal to feel scared. Shat myself first time, too. You… uh? Alright?”

* * *

Gavin’s silence following everything RK900 had said only made him more on edge. He didn’t care that Gavin ripped his wrist away. His hands balled into fists at his sides, narrowed eyes watching Gavin as he seemed to calm down. At least, he seemed to be absorbing everything that was said. RK900 wasn’t even finished. He had more he could say, if Gavin felt the need to keep up the argument, but it seemed the hostility now was one-sided, and instead of Gavin being the aggressor, it was RK900. Gavin seemed to shut up, maybe at a loss for words? He didn’t know.

RK900 kept quiet, trying to rein himself in, compose himself again, although his mind was cataloging the entire scene, filing it away for future reference. Showing emotion, reacting to Gavin’s antagonising, made the hostility dissipate. Gavin wasn’t quite _happy_, but if he wasn’t angry, that was an improvement.

His LED was still glowing red, even as Gavin started to speak. RK900 hadn’t looked into the code much, but he knew it existed. He suspected it was different for each deviant, simply based off of how the initial strings were written. It would be impossible for each deviant to be an individual if their codes were identical. It made sense for each code to be different. He wondered what his looked like now? How much had it changed since he first saw it?

He noticed there was never an apology. He doubted he’d get one. He wasn’t so sure he even _wanted_ one. What would it do? It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t ease the tightly wound frustration inside him.

When Gavin spoke again, RK900 turned his attention back to him. _Was_ he alright? No, not really. He couldn’t stop replaying the self-destruction in his head, or the memories he’d pulled from her. He couldn’t get the image of either of their lifeless bodies out of his head. But he didn’t admit any of it.

“I will be,” he answered, his voice softer now that he’d managed to calm himself at least a little. “Did… Did you listen to anything I said, before? About what happened here?”

* * *

_‘I will be…’_

Gavin was certain the exact same words had come out of his mouth once or twice before.

Now that he was paying attention, Gavin saw the red glow of the RK900’s LED. He saw the way his hands had curled into fists, he saw the subtle twitches in his expression, the way his voice quivered just slightly when he spoke. And he realised he’d read his little tin man all wrong. Gavin knew humans who were like this. They bottled shit up and made themselves hard to read. While Gavin was louder than a siren with projecting his thoughts, some people liked to keep it close to the chest. Was that RK900’s personality?

Gavin almost laughed. But standing there, stubbornly asserting that these androids didn’t have personalities when RK900 was trembling in front of him, when Connor had dragged him an inch from his life with just his words alone, when he’d sat there and read that they did have them… Gavin toed the line of stupidity a lot, but never on purpose like that.

“Yeah,” Gavin answered roughly, eyeing RK900’s expression. “Yeah, they’re, uh… They’re draining the blue blood and taking biocomponents. I got the gist,” he muttered and pushed RK900 away from him with the tips of his fingers. But he kept looking back at him. Gavin was like a bird with all his feathers pushed up the wrong way, and his body language was supremely unhappy. He kept looking at him, trying to size him up, and finding that he couldn’t. That he didn't know how to. Androids had fit into a very specific peg in Gavin’s life, for almost all of it. For longer than most. And now that peg didn’t fit. He didn’t know where the hell they fit. And while Gavin was aware that he shouldn't have said what he did, he didn’t really know how to fix it, either. He didn’t know where any android really fit into his life anymore. He sure as hell didn’t know where RK900 fit, and now? Gavin didn’t even know how the hell he was supposed to interact with him. He’d gotten so used to ignoring them unless he needed them.

“Dick move that they didn’t give you a name,” Gavin muttered, again unsure of what the hell he was supposed to say.

“D’you…?” _did he want to talk about the dead androids?_ But he couldn’t say that. Could he?

* * *

RK900 was relieved that Gavin seemed to be somewhat more friendly. He wasn’t hostile. He didn’t necessarily _seem_ angry. Unhappy, maybe. But at least they were _talking_. They hadn’t really talked at all, unless it was related to a case. He was still upset, his LED still red, his hands still balled into fists and trembling, but he was a little more relaxed now, the tension slowly easing up. It felt _good_ to get everything off his chest. Maybe snapping wasn’t the healthiest way to do it, but it felt good nonetheless. And it shut Gavin up too, and somehow didn’t seem to harm their working relationship.

He was glad that despite Gavin’s attitude, he’d at least absorbed the information. Although he hadn’t answered any of the questions that had been asked, but he supposed it didn’t particularly matter. Answers or not, they had no leads to follow to even try to close the case. He _could_ close the WR400’s case though, as well as the AF200’s. That was good news, for them. Not so good news for their friends and family.

RK900 gave a small, awkward shrug, his fists finally unclenching. The trembling didn’t quite stop, though. “I was only meant to be a machine. Connor was intended to be the perfect partner, able to adapt to any social situation and fit in. I wasn’t programmed with any social protocols. I wasn’t supposed to make friends, or even become deviant. I didn’t need a name. Androids go by their model numbers. Humans humanize us and give us names, or we choose our own once we’re deviant… But I can’t choose one,” he said, looking down at the concrete. “Nothing fits.”

When Gavin spoke again, he looked up, expecting him to continue. “What is it?” he asked, when Gavin never finished his question. He wasn’t sure what it could be about. Gavin was hard to read like this.

* * *

“That’s not true,” Gavin blurted, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turning towards RK900 a little more. “Your model number is just your model number. You were always s’posed to have a name. When you buy an android you’re meant to name it, and you register the name. Having a name has always been part of having androids. People like naming shit.”

Gavin watched as RK900 began to relax, and his expression darkened a little as he listened. Why had Elijah turned RK900 on? Why didn’t Connor stop him? They were both geniuses, why didn’t this ever occur to either of them?

“You’ll find one you like. Yeah? Just… hurry up,” Gavin muttered, shifting his weight so he could stare down at the snow-stained cement.

When he looked back up at RK900, it was with a guilty expression he quickly hid behind a sneer. Gavin almost told him to forget it, and turned his face to stare back at the warehouse doors. They should just get on with work.

But there was nobody here to watch them dawdle, and so Gavin took his sweet time answering.

“You wanna talk about it? The dead ‘droids, I mean, before we go back in.”

* * *

Gavin was right, androids were named almost immediately after activation, but the RK900 model wasn’t meant to be sold to the general public. He didn’t _need_ a name. He was one of a kind, there were no others like him. He didn’t need a name to differentiate himself from another RK900, and if he wasn’t meant to be _friends_ with humans, there was no real reason to give him one. He saw the reasoning behind CyberLife’s choices. It made sense to him, even if it didn’t make sense to Gavin.

RK900 noticed the slight shift in Gavin’s expression, though he didn’t quite understand what triggered it. He didn’t ask, even if he was curious. “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked, a little hopeful. Maybe he could just ask people what names they think might suit him, and he could choose from those? It would narrow the list by _a lot_.

When Gavin finished his thought, asked the question he hadn’t asked, RK900 looked back towards the warehouse door. “No?” he replied, unsure. “I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say that hasn’t already been said…” He also wasn’t so sure he even wanted to talk about it. It was all so fresh in his mind, and it haunted him. He didn’t know how Gavin managed to see so much death all the time and be so… _okay_. He supposed, eventually, he would become desensitized to it too, but he didn’t know how long it would take. He didn’t know when the memories replaying in his head would stop, or the sadness that came with all of it. He wanted it to be over already. He couldn’t focus on much else, and it was going to get in the way.

“What else do we have to do here?” he asked, looking back to Gavin. “I checked for prints. There weren’t any. No samples of DNA either. They were incredibly careful not to leave behind any traces of themselves. There isn’t anything else we _can_ do here.”

* * *

Gavin’s relief was unfortunately obvious, and he gave a sharp nod. RK900 wasn’t his first experience with Baby’s First Homicide. Gavin _was_ a homicide detective. At least once a quarter there was a poor new recruit he found puking in the bushes, someone who broke down in tears and didn’t come back to work, or someone who just completely shut down. Even Tina had taken a day off after her first one, back before he even liked her. This wasn’t Gavin’s first rodeo. But it _was_ the first time in a long time he’d plowed over the line regarding a partner.

“Alright. Okay, good,” Gavin muttered, scowling up at RK900 as he brought his fingers to his face to blow on them. He was freezing, and the warehouse wasn’t any warmer. He listened to RK900, and then with an annoyed breath of air at himself, he muttered, “Take it from the top?”

As RK900 reiterated everything he was too pissed off to absorb last time, Gavin’s expression smoothed as he focused back on work. His gaze flickered, and he gave a nod, leading the way back towards the doors.

“They were draining Thirium 310, and there’s maybe a new strain of Red Ice that uses Thirium 310. No fingerprints or DNA means organised crime or androids. Hell, maybe it’s both. All the big shot Red Ice players are in jail, so if it’s the mob, that means a new family moved in. If it’s androids, we might be looking at android mafia. Fuck, imagine that,” Gavin laughed bitterly. “Doubt it, though. You would have been able to match android faces and voices. And yeah. Probably selling the biocomponents. Flag that, because there can’t be many places selling biocomponents. It’s a nice narrow lead.”

Gavin was comfortable taking the lead, and he didn’t flinch away this time as he came to stand beside the android hanging on the hook.

“Get me the ballistics for this gunshot wound. I also want the make and model numbers of all this tech shit, maybe they were stupid enough to register it,” Gavin said, walking around the scene carefully. He gave RK900 orders the same way he would to a forensics team, and he was _pedantic_. Paranoid, even. He’d learnt to be, so nobody could snatch a clue or a lead out from under him, and steal the limelight of his case. He asked RK900 questions as though he were a witness when he was done giving him orders. Did he see where she was snatched from? Were there any clues to anything outside of the warehouse? Did she give any hint that she knew who took her? _How_ had she been taken and restrained?

“This could be something big. Or it could be nothing,” He said, snorting softly. He didn’t think it was nothing. “I think it’s big. I think this is it, RK900. I can fuckin’ feel it in my bones, this is big.” Gavin looked up at him, his fingers twitchy and excited. “When we get back to the precinct I want you to make that Tyler kid wish he’d never been born. Alright? I want you to make him shit himself so bad he starts shining his shoes and being a good boy. Make him talk. He’s our only lead, got it?”

* * *

When Gavin headed back inside, RK900 followed. He made a point to not look towards the back of the warehouse, where the WR400, Laura, was. He followed Gavin over to the AF200, looking him over again. It was a little easier this time. He noted exactly which biocomponents were missing, flagging them in his mind so he could search specifically for those components belonging to an AF200. Each component always came up with the type of model they had been installed in. If they could locate the components, they could track the killers.

“They weren’t androids. We can interface through clothing. She would have sensed if they were androids,” he informed. “I’ll search for the biocomponents missing specifically as well. Biocomponents are registered to the android they have initially been installed into. When one is removed, it is still registered to that model. If any components are sold that belong to an AF200, we’ll know.”

Direct orders were exactly what RK900 needed. He couldn’t think straight enough on his own to come up with a plan and execute it. Having one given to him helped. He could make a checklist of objectives in his mind, to tick off each one as he completed them.

> **Objectives**
> 
>   * Search for establishments distributing biocomponents // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Determine type of gun used and bullet caliber // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Compile list of possible gun owners // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Collect make and model from abandoned tech // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Check tech serial numbers to find registered owners // _Incomplete_

It was a short list, but it would do. It was enough for him to refocus on the task at hand and take his mind off of everything. If he was in work mode, he could tune out his emotions enough.

When Gavin started his questions, RK900 thought back to the memories he’d pulled from the WR400. He hadn’t really managed to pull much, just the warehouse, and not even _all_ of the warehouse. Just the final moments before they cleared out. “No, I didn't get a chance to see anything before the warehouse,” he said, shaking his head. “I don't know where she was taken, I don't know who might have taken her, how they managed to restrain her… All I got to see was the warehouse. You came over before she could show me anything else, and I've learned that searching when it isn't welcomed is… uncomfortable.”

He didn't quite understand why Gavin thought it would be a good thing if the case was something big. He seemed excited, but all RK900 could think about was the number of drained androids they'd find. How many more would die before they were able to find whoever was behind it? But they did still have Tyler. If they could get names… They might be able to close the case and save plenty of lives. "Got it."

His LED was still red, but it flickered away as he got to work, stepping closer to the android to inspect its head. He checked both sides, before coming to stand on one side of it, extending his arm as if he was aiming a gun.

“The gun used is a 9mm caliber handgun. There doesn’t appear to be any bullet casings left behind, but this is where the shooter would have been standing,” he reported, lowering his arm as he searched all available databases for owners of 9mm handguns, although the list that bounced back was _long_. It seemed as if half of Detroit had one. He couldn’t pick any names out of the bunch. It was too early on in the investigation to really find any names. However, he did file the list away for future reference, just in case Tyler Bates gave up any names during the interrogation.

> **Objectives**
> 
>   * Search for establishments distributing biocomponents // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Determine type of gun used and bullet caliber // _Complete_
> 
>   * Compile list of possible gun owners // _Complete_
> 
>   * Collect make and model from abandoned tech // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Check tech serial numbers to find registered owners // _Incomplete_

He moved on to the next task, meticulously inspecting each and every piece of tech, recording their makes, models, and serial numbers, compiling a list in his mind to run a search on after. Quick as he was, there had been a lot of tech left behind. The whole process took about fifteen minutes, and he finally had a complete list of each piece of tech abandoned in the warehouse. He ran each serial through the system, and they all came back to the same name. It all belonged to a Chinese man, and upon further research, he lived in China and had never left the country. However, there _were_ records of him making a large shipment to an address in Detroit. The address matched the warehouse. The shipment was sent to a Michael Dent. There was only one in Detroit, a 32-year-old man living in the slums. And he _did_ own a 9mm handgun.

> **Objectives**
> 
>   * Search for establishments distributing biocomponents // _Incomplete_
> 
>   * Collect make and model from abandoned tech // _Complete_
> 
>   * Check tech serial numbers to find registered owners // _Complete_

“All of the tech was shipped here from China, to this warehouse, addressed to Michael Dent, aged 32. He is on the list of handgun owners I compiled, although there is no way to tell if he was the shooter without the gun itself,” RK900 reported, returning to Gavin. All that remained was to look for the biocomponents, but that wasn’t necessarily something they had to do right that moment. It would take time and a lot of digging to find places selling parts. Repair shops _did_ exist, but there weren’t very many. It would be a good place to start.

“If there’s nothing else, detective, I think we’re done here. We can return to the precinct whenever you’re ready.”

* * *

Gavin began chewing on his thumbnail again as RK900 went through each and every instruction he’d given. Every single one of those would have taken forensics a day each. He wouldn’t have seen a report on his desk until after Christmas. And RK900 just spat the answers right out, then and there, as though he’d already known them. It was exhilarating, because _damn_ they were already a week ahead of schedule. But it was also scary. Because how fucking long would it take before Gavin became redundant to a machine like that?

It hadn’t escaped him that RK900 did well with instruction, and Gavin was more than happy to give it. They worked well together. RK900 kept up with him, didn’t bitch at him, didn’t push back against what he asked. There was no ego. He liked that.

He watched as RK900 pretended to hold a gun, and aimed it at the android on the hooks. Gavin’s eyes flicked to the angle of his shoulders, and then to the way RK900 angled his face as he aimed. Those eyes were _dangerous_, and Gavin realised quite suddenly that RK900 was a lot broader than he looked.

His nose scrunched, and he quickly looked away.

Nope. No. _No._ Tall men with sharp jaws, sharp tongues, and a sharper aim had gotten him hot under the collar since he was sixteen. RK900 was _not a man_. Gavin wasn’t Elijah. He knew the difference. _No._

Gavin pretended to look around for the casing as he pushed that thought down _deep_ out of the way, and it wasn’t much effort to slide back into work mode afterward. They had nothing else to do but call in clean-up, and so Gavin walked around the edge of the warehouse, quickly sweeping for any more droids that crawled to safety. When he rounded to the door, he whistled for RK900 to follow him. They had to wait for his car to heat up before they could leave, and despite knowing it chewed through gas, Gavin blasted the dashboard heater as well.

He was looking forward to a coffee when they got into the precinct.

\------

Tyler Bates sat shivering with a thin police blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’d been sitting in a metal chair, handcuffed to a metal table, for hours. He’d lost track of how long. He needed to pee. He was _starving_. Nobody was listening to him, he’d screams himself hoarse and rubbed his wrists raw. He’d also cried more than he’d cried since leaving school.

He’d beat his mom. He hadn’t meant to, he couldn’t even remember it all properly, but he’d beat her pretty bad. He had her blood on him, it was on his sweater. She was never gonna talk to him again. What if he’d killed her before she’d got him away? He could have. The kitchen was right there and he’d _thought_ about it. What if he had?

It wasn’t his fault. She shouldn’t have grabbed him. _It wasn’t his fault_.

Tyler passed out a few times, always waking up sweating, and anxious, and _angry_. His head didn’t feel right. He’d had crashes before but they never made him feel like this. His head didn’t feel right. He felt like he was covered in bruises. Did the police bash him when he was sleeping? Probably, it was the police.

Tyler fell asleep with his cuffs pulled taut, his knees spread, and his cheek pressed into the cold metal table. He’d left a sweaty streak against the stainless steel, and his shoulders twitched intermittently. He felt bad. This had been a _bad_ hit. And all he wanted was to sleep it off.

* * *

RK900 _thought_ he caught a glimpse of Gavin looking him over prior to quickly looking away. He didn’t quite understand what he was looking at. It wasn’t necessarily what he’d intended Gavin to look at. He’d been trying to show the angle the bullet was likely shot from. He estimated the shooter’s height to be approximately 5’11” based on the angle of the bullet’s path. He didn’t bother sharing the information though. It wouldn’t help narrow it down much, unless Michael Dent was 5’11”.

When Gavin whistled for him, he followed him out to the car. He’d already made a call for clean-up and received a message that they were on their way. He got in the car once it was unlocked and eagerly waited for it to warm up. He had been so wrapped up in the investigation and his emotions that he hadn’t even realized how cold his hands were. _He_ was cold. His uniform did a decent enough job to keep most of the chill off, but it wasn’t meant to be warm. Maybe he needed something warmer. He did have access to CyberLife’s funds…

\------

By the time they made it back to the precinct, RK900 was feeling better. He’d had time to recover, process it, and file away the events into a neat little folder in the back of his mind. His LED had eventually returned to a steady blue glow, all trembling ceased. On the car ride there, he had already submitted a report for the warehouse, making sure to inform Gavin so he didn’t bother wasting his time doing it. He’d made sure to include that the androids found were from missing cases, and to include all of the information he’d dug up. He left out how he reacted to the WR400 and their argument, keeping it direct and to the point, covering everything need-to-know only.

All that remained for their day was interrogating Tyler Bates. RK900 retrieved the case folder, filled with pictures of each of the injuries on Mrs. Bates as well as the report the officers had taken when she initially called it in, and the evidence bag holding the Red Ice. He checked with Gavin first, to gauge _how_, exactly, he wanted him to extract the information from the kid. No assault. He could keep his hands to himself though, he didn’t have to hurt him to scare him. He could threaten, make false promises, bribes. He had ways to go about it.

Once they were ready, he placed his hand on the palm scanner beside the door, watching it flash to green when he was authorized. The door slid open and he stepped inside. Tyler was sleeping so soundly, one of the side effects, RK900 noted. He slipped the evidence bag into his jacket pocket and dropped the folder onto the table before _slamming_ his fist down onto the metal table to wake him up.

He slid into the chair across from the boy, hands in his lap while he waited for Tyler to come to. “I’m RK900,” he greeted, once he seemed aware enough. “Tyler Bates, isn’t it? It’s nice to meet you.”

He’d play nice for now. If the kid didn’t want to play along, he’d have to resort to other less than friendly methods.

* * *

Tyler inhaled so sharply when the table was slammed, a hand landing just in front of his face, that he immediately began choking on his own saliva. His chair scraped as he got to his feet to get away, and he yelled in a disoriented panic when the cuffs kept him in place.

From the viewing room, Gavin bent over himself as he started _laughing_, one hand curled loosely around his own waist.

Tyler’s eyes were blown out, swallowed in black as he looked up at the voice speaking to him. There were purple shadows under his eyes, and is skin was gray and clammy. He was sweating, and despite being cold, he had big wet watched under his pits and down the small of his back, which had soaked through his sweater.

“Let me out, yeah? Lemme--” Tyler’s unsteady gaze rested on RK900’s temple. “You stay away from me. _You stay away from me. I _supported y’all at that hart plaza thing, I'm on your side, I _like_ androids. So don’t you do anything, yeah? I supported you. _You stay away from me_.”

Tyler slid back into the chair, staring over at RK900 as though the empty table had a torture sleeve unrolled across it. Tyler twitched and trembled, his fingers flexing where they were bound to the table.

“Lemme out.”

* * *

RK900 kept a straight face, simply watching Tyler, taking note of his appearance, how _awful_ he looked. The after-effects of Red Ice on its own were bad enough, from what he’d read. But the new strain? This was way worse. He made note of all of his symptoms, filing it away to compare to any future suspects they might come across. If the withdrawal was consistent, they’d be able to tell who was on it just by seeing how they react to being off of it. It would be a convenient way to find out which of their suspects were using without having to take a blood sample.

He wasn’t surprised that Tyler was begging for his freedom the second he was aware enough. Although, Tyler’s reaction to discovering he was being interrogated by an android was a little surprising. His eyebrows rose just slightly and he raised his hands in an attempt to show he meant no harm. Yet.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’ll stay right here,” he assured, though he knew that was unlikely. “Relax. Did they get you anything to drink? To eat?”

He was hoping maybe he could calm him enough and get him comfortable, so he’d talk without having to terrify him. He knew he had Gavin’s permission, and he knew it would work, but he also knew that the less trauma he caused, the more likely Tyler would be to trust them with more and more information.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go. We spoke to your mother this morning. She was very upset. We know you use Red Ice. I found your stash. How often do you use? How often have you used this particular batch?” he asked, his hands coming to rest on top of the table.

* * *

“You better,” Tyler muttered a little distantly, and for a moment it looked as though he were struggling to stay awake. His eyes unfocused, and then snapped to RK900’s face. He was unsteady, and if it weren’t for his chair and the hands bound to the table, he no doubt would have found his way to the floor.

When asked if he had eaten or drunk anything, Tyler shook his head and muttered about not being hungry, about being fine. If anything, it was as though RK900 were getting in the way of him passing out. He wasn’t entirely there.

“No, man, that wasn’t mine. I don’t use,” Tyler said, shifting in his seat as his leg began to bounce in agitation. “She’s fucking lying to you, she’s just pissed off, m’just hungover. I haven’t used anything, s’just booze…”

Tyler’s middle finger began to rap quickly against the metal of the table, his breathing picking up.

“I’m not on anything. Just let me out. Yeah? Come on.” Tyler swallowed a few times, and one finger rapping on the table became two. “Let me out. Let me OUT. _LET ME OUT. _Alright? Please? Come on.”

* * *

It seemed like Tyler was going back and forth between being nearly catatonic to being completely strung out. It was very clear that it wasn’t just a hangover. This wasn’t from alcohol. He had proof that it wasn’t, but if he hadn’t, he would have easily been able to tell that this was something more than just alcohol.

“You aren’t leaving until you tell me everything I want to know,” RK900 said, reaching into his jacket pocket to take out the evidence bag, holding it up for him to see, but easily out of his reach. “This was hidden in your sock drawer, back left, underneath a pair of black socks.”

He sat the bag down on the far edge of the table, in view but out of Tyler’s reach. “I’m not sure how much you know about androids, Tyler, but a standard CyberLife android can pick up on human body language easily. I am a highly advanced prototype, capable of far more than you could ever imagine. Every word out of your mouth was a lie. You aren’t hungry, that was true. But everything else was a blatant lie, and very poor ones, at that,” he continued, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. “How many hits have you taken from that packet? Who is your dealer? If you tell me, this will all be over.”

* * *

Tyler’s tapping became trembling, erratic hands. Hadn’t he just said he was on the android’s side? Tyler’s expression darkened, and he swayed a little in his seat as he listened to RK900 speak. He was only catching bits and pieces. Or rather, he was catching all of it, but he was processing at a lag. It was hard to keep track of him, and his eyes spaced out a few more times as he tried to.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Tyler mumbled, and then _yanked_ his hands, pulling against the handcuff chains. Did they think he was stupid? Why did the cops always think they’d just _give out_ their dealer’s details? Prison was a free meal, but pissing off your dealer? Pissing off _Tyler’s_ dealer? You’d wish you were in prison.

With a disgusting sound in the back of his throat, Tyler brought up a loogie and _spat_ at RK900, baring his teeth at him.

“Fuck, even their plastic pigs reek of bacon,” Tyler slurred, raising both hands and flipping the bird. “_GIVE ME MY PHONE CALL. FUCK YOU, AND GIVE ME MY PHONE CALL.” _Tyler’s hands slapped against the table, and he got to his feet again despite being shackled down. “You can't prove shit, you can’t prove anything, you can’t prove that’s mine!”

* * *

“That’s where you’re wrong,” RK900 said simply. “I know _plenty_ about you. I know every single school you’ve ever attended. I know you did poorly, barely even graduated. No _real_ criminal record, up until now. A DUI, a very minor possession charge, nothing to warrant prison, _yet_. Haven’t held a job for more than three or four months, if you were lucky. I know you’re very active on social media, and I believe your mother told us you’re friends with your dealer? How long do you think it would take me to find the messages between the two of you? We have your phone. All I have to do is _touch_ it.”

He wasn’t even phased by any of Tyler’s actions, standing once Tyler did, rounding the table to get into his space. “And once again. You’re wrong,” he said, grabbing Tyler’s wrist in a tight grip to examine his fingertips. “Your fingerprints are all over the packet. We _know_ it’s yours. And you can have it back, if you cooperate. If you _don’t_ cooperate… I can make you. I might consider letting you use the phone, _but_ you have no constitutional right to a phone call. It’s a courtesy. One you won’t be afforded if you keep this up.”

He was lying about returning the Red Ice, of course. It was evidence, it wouldn’t leave the station. It would go into evidence lockup to rot. But Tyler didn’t have to know that. He could offer it, let him have hope that he might be at least a little in control of the situation. He absolutely wasn’t and never would be, but he didn’t have to know that either.

* * *

“I’m not friends with a dealer ‘cause I'm _NOT USING ANYTHING!” _Tyler yelled, panicking, his gaze sliding between the RK900 and the bag of evidence. That bag had cost him a _lot_ of money. He’d robbed a 7/11 dry for it, but he’d _needed_ it. He hadn’t hurt anyone. And if the android touched hi phone and read everything, he’d find out Michael’s name, and his location, and he’d see the messages about the 7/11 last week, and the pawn shop they lifted last month, and the grocer the month before that…

Any rational thought went out the window as the android gripped his wrist. Tyler screamed like it had burned him, pulling away as _terror_ washed over his meth-riddled brain.

“He’ll kill me! He’ll kill me if I tell you, I can’t, he’ll kill me, he’ll shoot my mom, he’ll shoot me, I can’t--” Tyler said in a mixture of moans and yells. He kept sliding in and out, his entire body shaking like a leaf. His breathing had quickened, and so had his pulse.

“I didn’t mean to beat her, I didn’t mean it,” Tyler choked, his voice whining as he continued, “I’ve never done that before, I'm a nice guy, I didn’t _mean to_…”

He continued on like that, talking in circles. Confessing to the beating, admitting to possession, but nothing useful.

“You can’t touch my phone, you need my permission. I have _rights_, that’s a-- an invasion. You _can’t._”

* * *

More denial, of course. They knew the truth. They just needed him to break and admit it, and give him a name. He didn’t even need a full name. Part of it would do. Friends lists were public, he didn’t have to access Tyler’s phone to find the dealer if he had part of the name. A full name would be ideal, but first or last or even a nickname would do.

RK900 didn’t let go when Tyler pulled back, his grip tightening around his wrist instead. “_Give me a name_,” he growled, towering over him. “He’ll be locked up far away from you and your mother, if you give him up. Just give me his name. He’ll never have to know it was you.”

Distribution chargers were heftier than possession charges. His dealer would be locked up for quite a while, whereas Tyler might only be in for a year or two, if that. “I _might_ be able to work out a deal. Get you less time. Less time you have to spend in jail with him. I know he is a male. You identified him as one. That narrows down your friends list quite a bit. And he must be local, which narrows it down even further…” he mused, going through Tyler’s friends list in his head. “We can eliminate family. Dealer or not, family wouldn’t kill family. Or at least, it isn’t likely. So that leaves us with exactly 63 names, non-related male locals. As for your phone… You’re right. I can’t touch it without permission. But we could get a warrant. That’s all the permission I need.”

* * *

When RK900’s voice _growled_ at Tyler, he panicked. His full weight yanked at both him and the chain, and he stopped breathing, forgetting how, as he listened to everything RK900 said. Tears splashed down Tyler’s cheeks as he stared in _horror_, and despite everything RK900 said, despite his deductions and his threats, only one really seemed to connect.

“Jail with him?” he asked, his eyes shifting in and out of focus as he stared, terrified, up at RK900. His hands began to tremble again. His skin was damp with sweat, and his pulse dangerously high.

He needed another hit. He could feel his own pulse, and he felt like he was dying. He couldn’t see straight. The world only made halfway sense, and he was going to jail? He was going to jail with Mike?

“You can’t-- I’m not 21, I'm still a minor--” but Tyler knew that particular fact was a myth. He still said it anyway. “I’m going to jail?” he asked again, from very far away.

“He’ll kill her when he gets out. He’s gonna know when I'm in there, he’ll kill her when he gets out,” Tyler said, trying to twist out of RK900’s hold while at the same time move around the edge of the table away from him. “I’m not gonna narc on him, I'm not telling you, he’ll kill my mom.”

This was bad. He needed a hit. And while he wasn’t so far gone to think he could reach the evidence bag, getting away from the android and closer to it made him feel a little better.

“Is this real?”’ He suddenly asked, laughing. “Am I tripping? Cause this-- Am I going to jail?”

* * *

RK900 let go of him, letting him put enough distance between them to feel comfortable before closing in again. He could only go so far with his hand cuffed to the table. He grabbed the evidence bag, slipping it back into his pocket for safekeeping, before closing the gap between them. “Yes. In jail, with him. You’re going to prison for at least a year, solely for possession. Your time for assault is yet to be determined, but I can promise you, you’ll be in prison for a year,” he told him. “You’re nineteen. You’re a legal adult, and you’ll be tried as one. Or, you can tell me what I want to know and I can try to pull some strings for you.”

He couldn’t set up a plea deal formally, but he wasn’t promising him anything. He was saying he could talk to someone about it. He wasn’t making guarantees. He’d mention it to Gavin, see if Gavin thought the kid was worthy of it, and if he was, they move forward from there.

“My patience is wearing thin, Tyler,” he warned, backing him up until he couldn’t move any further, before slamming his hand back onto the table. “_Give me a name!”_

He reached over, flipping the folder open to show him the photos of all of his mother’s injuries. “_You_ did this! You beat your mother so badly, _she called the police_. You could have killed her. And for what? A few minutes of euphoria? Maybe you belong in jail, with the other drug addicts and murderers. It might sober you up. You’ll _never_ get your hands on even a milligram of Red Ice there.”

* * *

A year? Tyler stared up at RK900 as the reality tore through him. His eyes followed the red ice to his pockets, and as he did, his breathing turned from rapid to hyperventilating.

“GET AWAY, _GET AWAY FROM ME,” _He screamed, the room tunneling around the edges. “I didn’t mean to! I’ve never done that before! But I tried a new hit and it’s got rat poison or something, it’s bad,” Tyler said through thick, _heavy_ tears. “Thought that cause it’s more expensive it’d be better but it’s _not_, s’not my fault what I did, it isn’t my fault, please,” he begged, his nose running messy down his face as he cried.

Tyler looked _wretched_. Wrung out, with bruise-hued eyes, his mousy hair was unwashed and greasy, and his clothes soaked with sweat. He stunk of body odor, sickly sweat, and stale marijuana picked up from the house he’d been found in.

“He sold me something bad, man. I don’t feel good. It wasn’t my fault,” Tyler begged, his eyebrows knitted up and his expression pleading. “He said it was gonna replace all his old shit, he’s just selling this stuff now. But it’s _bad_, I've _never_ done that. And if I tell you, he’ll kill her. He’ll really do it, I heard him do others. He’ll kill her man you can’t-- you can’t make me say it, he’ll kill her…”

* * *

Despite Tyler’s panic, RK900 didn’t move. He stayed where he was, not letting Tyler budge from where he had him cornered. But he was talking more, at least. It absolutely _was_ a new strain, an expensive one, and if this dealer was replacing his entire stock with this new strain of Red Ice… He likely knew the manufacturer. He had connections. They _needed_ his name.

“He won’t touch your mother. We can protect her. If you give us his name, he will be going away for years. He could potentially be in for _life_. He will never be a threat. _If_ you give us a name,” he pushed. “There are hundreds of other people out there like you, who are going to get their hands on this and they’re going to _kill_ people. People are going to die. And _you_ can prevent it. Do you _want_ people to die?”

Short of actually hurting the kid, all he could do was raise his voice and hope he cracked. “This is your last chance, Tyler. _Tell. Me. His. Name_,” he growled again. “If you don’t, I’m going to walk out that door, an officer is going to come in here, cuff you, and drive you to prison. You’ll be booked, strip-searched, and released into the general population without any chance of ever seeing Red Ice again for at least a year, maybe two, just for your drug charges alone. Longer, if your mother decides to press charges.”

* * *

Tyler’s wrists rattled as he tried to push RK900 away, and couldn’t. He wept openly, shaking his head as RK900 explained in detail what was going to happen to him. But he latched onto the hope that they’d keep his mother safe, and he was too high, too completely muddled to really comprehend the fact that no amount of police protection aside from a 24-hour watch would be enough to protect his mother from revenge. He heard the promise to protect her, and he stupidly believed it.

His face ended up buried in the fold of his own trembling arms. His wrists were bleeding where he’d been pulling on the cuffs, the metal digging in and leaving welts that promised to scar if he picked them.

Tyler began to tremble again, his knuckles rapping against the metal with the severity of it.

“M-Mikey. Michael Den-Dent,” Tyler choked out, only for the volume of his crying to increase. Terror washed over Tyler, ruthless and fierce, and he moaned into the crook of his arms as his fear manifested in hyperventilation. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die, either because Michael found him or because he shut down here and now. He should kill himself before he got to prison. He was nineteen, the meth had dropped him to 90-ish pounds, and he couldn’t fight. He was going to get raped. Isn’t that what happened? He couldn’t go to prison.

“Please. _Please_, you can’t,” he gasped wretchedly when he managed to pull in a breath. “I’ll do rehab, I promise. Please.”

* * *

The _second_ the name came out of Tyler’s mouth, RK900 backed off, taking a good few steps back to give him space. The name matched, and his LED flickered red for a fraction of a second. He looked to the two-way mirror, where he knew Gavin would be. This dealer _could_ be the manufacturer himself. He’d ordered a bunch of supplies from China to drain androids and create the drug. It could be him.

“What can you tell me about Michael Dent?” he asked, all hostility in his voice gone. “Where does he hang out? Does he create drugs, or does he just sell them? You said he would _shoot_ you. Do you know the type of gun he has? Is he familiar with androids?”

He got what they needed, but more information would help drastically. He considered asking him if he could arrange a meeting, although that was something he would have to discuss with Gavin first. LED flickering yellow as he briefly searched the DPD staff directory, he pulled Gavin’s number from his file.

**TO:** Det. Gavin Reed

**FROM:** RK900 // #313 248 317 - 87

**MESSAGE:**

> _Is it possible to work out a plea deal for him? Ideally little to no jail time in exchange for a meeting with Michael Dent? We need to contact him. He directly links the Red Ice strain to the missing androids. They are draining androids and using Thirium 310 to make the drug. We have to stop them._

Once the message sent, he redirected his attention to Tyler again. “I’ll see what I can do. I sent a message to my partner. The more you can tell us about Michael, the safer you and your mother will be. Tell me everything you know.”

* * *

Gavin jumped when his phone buzzed in his back pocket, and thought about leaving it until after the interrogation was over. This stupid kid had really dug himself into a deep hole, and he didn’t even know the goldmine it was for he and RK900.

Gavin pulled out his phone to check who it was, thinking maybe another case had come up, and was surprised to see RK900 and his - what, his _serial number?_ \- as the number that sent it.

**TO:** RK900 // #313 248 317 - 87

**FROM:** Det. Gavin Reed

**MESSAGE:**

> _Gotta ask Fowler's permission for that. Come back in once he’s done squawking & we’ll let him stew in there til 3-ish._

Gavin pressed send, and looked back up at the glass, watching RK900’s LED flicker as he received it. He’d forgotten androids could do that. It’d be convenient as hell if they were running an undercover or infiltration job; they wouldn’t need earpieces.

Inside the room, Tyler took a little while longer to calm down, and a bit longer after that for his brain to catch up to his tongue.

“I meet him behind my old high school. There’s a park with a public toilet. I think he fucks the senior girls in there, too? Like, gives them money. I dunno. Maybe it’s a rumour,” Tyler said roughly, wiping his face on his sleeve as he inched back around the table towards the chair he’d abandoned. “Uh… like a gun? Like a hand gun,” Tyler said stupidly, shivering where he sat. “He’s got a buzz, he’s white, um. Like 6ft? Wears big boots. Don’t know about androids, we don’t really talk much except to ask if he has anything…”

* * *

RK900 was relieved that Gavin replied so soon. He hadn’t mentioned it to him before, but it would be very convenient if Gavin could give his input from the outside, things he might find out while RK900 was interrogating, or things he might have seen that RK900 didn’t catch for whatever reason. It would make things smoother.

He listened as Tyler spoke, answering his questions. They weren’t lies this time, luckily. He was being honest, and RK900 nodded when it seemed Tyler was finished. It was good to know where they met. RK900 could easily find out where Michael lived, although showing up at his house was likely going to be dangerous. He was in the slums. The area wasn’t safe as it was, and if he had roommates? They would be outnumbered, sorely outgunned, and in danger. Setting up a meeting was their best bet.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, moving over to the table to close the folder, picking it up. “I’ll be back.”

And with that, he went back over to the door, placed his hand on the scanner, and left once the door opened. He entered the observation room, setting the folder down on the table. “I would like to see if we can work out a deal for him. He made a mistake, and if we can get court-mandated rehab for him, he could improve. He shouldn’t go to prison. He won’t last a week,” he said, looking back through the glass at Tyler. “He _did_ help us. More than he’s aware. If we can offer little to no jail time in exchange for a meeting, we could arrest Michael Dent for not only distribution and possession, but possibly for the kidnapping of two androids and their murder. The shooter was 5’11”. I won’t know Michael’s exact height until we meet him, but he does own a handgun. We could possibly even arrest him for drug manufacturing, if we can find evidence that he’s the one producing it.”

* * *

The time between RK900 leaving the interrogation room and entering the observation room had Gavin fumbling for something to do. Just like with Connor, that had been beautiful to watch. Less than ten minutes and RK900 had gotten them a confession for possession, a confession for assault, confirmation that there _was_ a new strain of Red Ice, the name of his dealer, who was a potential lead to bigger players. Gavin didn’t find anything to make himself look preoccupied with before the door opened, and took to folding his arms when RK900 walked in.

RK900 had Gavin’s full, quiet attention as he began speaking. He very nearly pointed out that _thanks_, he’d been standing there listening the entire time, he didn’t need a summary. But the summary actually helped a lot.

“He’s not gonna last a day, ‘900,” Gavin scoffed, looking over at Tyler through the glass. Gavin leant against the table, halfway sitting on it, and turned his gaze back to RK900 before he spoke. “If he’s fucking cheerleaders we can likely get him on statutory rape, too. Schools always go wild with gossip when the cops come asking for questions. He’ll be in there a long fucking time once we’re done with him,” Gavin said happily, tapping a finger against his own arm.

Gavin’s heart was beating a mile a minute. He had the jitters in only the best kind of ways, _restless_ to do something. The way he’d gotten _real_ damn close and growled in his ear, the vicious tone in RK900’s voice. He wanted to set RK900 onto someone else, like some broad-shouldered attack dog.

The way RK900 held himself. The way he spoke like Tyler’s life didn’t mean a _single_ shit to him, how he’d growled and yelled. The straightness of his back and the deliberation of his steps…

Gavin looked up into RK900’s face, meeting the cold blue gaze of his eyes. Just that shade alone was enough to differentiate him from Connor. They made him look cold, and mean, and like he might pull out a gun and aim it between your eyes. It made Gavin’s skin tight, it made his pulse thump stupidly beneath the skin.

RK900 was a dangerous prick with a heart of gold. And now he’d noticed it, now that he _knew_, Gavin’s eyes lingered on him just a little longer.

He wasn’t attracted to RK900, _god no_, just the show he’d put on. There was a difference, and Gavin held onto it with both hands.

“We need Fowler to sign off on almost all of it. But…” Gavin pushed off the table and took a deep, excited breath, “If someone is one, kidnapping ‘droids; two, draining and looting and killing ‘em; and three, making a nastier, more violent Red Ice from the blue blood they’re draining. This is _big_ case material, baby. This is _task force_ level,” Gavin grinned, rubbing his nose distractedly.

“We’ve gotta give this to Fowler so it’s _squeaky fucking clean_, alright? Write up our demands for this Tyler kid. You’ve already done the report, right? I need you to write a summary report linking the investigations,” Gavin was counting everything out on his fingers as he spoke, and began to lead RK900 back out into the office and to the printer. “We got these investigations _yesterday_. If we keep up the rate we’re going we’ll have this closed by Christmas,” Gavin said happily, hands on his hips as the reached a printer and Gavin waited for RK900 to finish writing and send it in.

* * *

The way Gavin had shortened his model number didn’t go unnoticed. It made him tilt his head just slightly, mulling it over in his head. Was it laziness or an attempt at a nickname? He thought about asking, but decided against it. He knew model numbers were a mouthful. Shortening it made some sense, he figured. So he shrugged it off, listening as Gavin continued.

Gavin was right. If they could find proof of Michael’s activities, they could charge him with statutory rape, on top of everything else he would already be going away for. Tyler wouldn’t have to worry about ever seeing him again. It didn’t look good for Michael, but it was going to be excellent for the case and for Gavin. Maybe he would get the promotion he’d been hoping for after all. Especially if the case turned out to be as big as Gavin seemed to be hoping. It definitely seemed like it was bigger than what they’d originally imagined.

The way Gavin was looking at him hadn’t gone unnoticed either, although it was another thing he decided against questioning. He didn’t quite understand why Gavin’s heart rate was elevated. He _did_ know that Gavin hadn’t had a cigarette yet today, unless he’d had one that morning before coming in. RK900 doubted it, though. Gavin didn’t smell like smoke today. The scent was faint, just lingering on his jacket from previous times. Not recent. He suspected maybe the elevated heart rate was simply withdrawal, as well as the jitteriness he’d been displaying almost all day. Although, that didn’t explain why Gavin kept staring at him, almost as if he was studying him. But he wasn’t going to ask.

When Gavin left the observation room to go towards a printer, RK900 followed. He did as he was told, writing up the summary report Gavin requested and sending it to the printer, before starting on the demands for Tyler as well as a proposal to show Fowler, outlining all of the demands and the conditions, and going as far as to explain each and every one before sending those to the printer as well, his LED flickering away until the process was complete.

“If Michael Dent is the manufacturer, we could close the case by the end of the week,” RK900 pointed out. He was distributing the drugs, but he was also directly linked to the technology used to drain the androids. While that didn’t necessarily mean he was the one manufacturing it, he played a big enough role that it was absolutely possible. They would have to interrogate him too, once they arrest him. RK900 had gone easy on Tyler. He was just a stupid kid. He made a mistake, he was sorry for it, and he hadn’t meant to do it in the first place. Awful as the situation was, RK900 believed him. There was no sign of a lie there, and he didn’t really _want_ to hurt him. Michael Dent, however? With Gavin’s permission, he would get the confessions and information they needed by any means necessary. He just needed permission to do what he had to in order to get him to talk, and he doubted he would give information up easily.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas?” he asked conversationally, while the machine printed out each sheet. He understood the concept of Christmas, as well as the reasons humans celebrated it, although he wasn’t sure it was necessarily something androids would celebrate. But then again, the only deviants he’d interacted with so far had been Connor and Laura, and his interactions with both had been rather brief. He hadn’t had an actual conversation about meaningless things with Connor before.

* * *

Gavin _grinned_ when RK900 pointed out the speed of their potential closure of this case. Holy hell. What a way to start, their biggest challenge after that would be keeping up the pace they’d set. He was excited. How long had it been since he’d had a good case to sink his teeth into? Something to really test him. When he’d started studying homicide, he’d hoped for Hannibal Lecter every few weeks. It was far from the truth, and he was able to pick out the newbies who came in thinking the same thing.

Gavin’s thoughts were derailed when RK900 asked him about Christmas. Gavin’s brows knitted, and he chewed on his bottom lip as he regarded him. What the hell? Hadn’t he just told Gavin that he didn’t have social integration?

“I’m getting blind drunk and finding someone to fuck me under the mistletoe,” Gavin drawled, lying through his teeth and knowing the RK900 knew he was lying. Knowing he likely knew _Gavin_ knew. For being _so_ incredibly nosy and invasive, Gavin himself was a closed book. He let people think what they wanted, and if they pried, he kept them at arm's length with rude words and a bad attitude. He embarrassed people to keep them off his back.

Gavin told Elijah almost everything. He told his mom everything else. Tina knew the superficial stuff. The only one who knew everything was Prince, and she couldn’t gossip.

The progress RK900 had made was yanked away just like that. Gavin ignored him again, threw up the walls that had been eased down, and when the papers had finished printing, he took them and walked back to his table without waiting, put them all in individual folders and meticulously labeled them without talking, and walked to Fowler's office without waiting.

The message was clear - _Fuck off_.

Using just his knuckle, Gavin knocked a few times on the glass, and pushed it open when Fowler yelled at him to come in. He put Tyler’s file on the table first, and without any pomp or ceremony explained exactly what they needed and why.

Nervous, in a way that manifested in intense, almost aggressive determination, Gavin slapped the other two files down in front of him.

“Sir, I think this is bigger than we first thought. We’ve got proof that blue blood is being used to make a new strain of Red Ice, and we know a dealer of that strain is kidnapping androids and draining them. The machinery is all there, it’s premeditated. It all links up, sir.”

* * *

The grin on Gavin’s face was nice to see. It was such a nice change from the hostility he’d started to become accustomed to. It almost seemed like they could maybe be _friends_. The confrontation earlier had done a lot for their relationship and RK900 believed they were making good progress. Up until the second Gavin’s grin faded at the mention of Christmas plans.

The lie was crass and RK900 didn’t understand _why_ he was even lying. He didn’t understand why Gavin’s attitude shifted so quickly, or why he seemed to just… close off. They were back to square one and he didn’t even understand why, or what he did wrong. He knew the question had been what caused the change, but what about it set Gavin off? He didn’t understand.

When Gavin collected the papers, put them in folders, and headed to Fowler’s office, RK900 followed behind him silently. Once they were in the room, he stood out of the way, letting Gavin do all the talking.

Fowler turned away from his computer to look at each of the folders, starting with Tyler’s while Gavin explained everything. He nodded along to at least show that he was listening while he let him continue, moving onto the other two folders once they were placed in front of him. After reading through them, he closed them up and sat them down.

“We need to bring Dent in, before more androids go missing. We gotta get this drug off the streets as fast as possible. I’ll make a call, find out if we can move forward with the plea deal. Is the kid’s mom pressing charges?” he asked, turning back to his computer to pull up Tyler’s record. “If she’s not, and if the judge agrees to no time in jail, he’s free to go whenever you’re done with him.”

Fowler was definitely impressed by the progress they’d made in such a short amount of time. They just got wind of the new Red Ice the other day, and only a couple days later, they were possibly closing the case and locking up the guy responsible. If Gavin to keep up the quick pace they were going at, he would get that promotion sooner than later.

* * *

Gavin’s excitement kicked up again, and he managed to contain it with a tight smile and a nod of his head.

“Give me a yell when you’ve got the all-clear,” Gavin said, before thanking Fowler and excusing himself. His smile pulled into another grin once he turned around, his gaze sliding over RK900. If they kept this up his promotion was in the bag. He’d been hoping for a case like this for _years_.

Fowler’s approval took as long as it did for Gavin to make a coffee and sit back at his desk. He hadn’t had lunch, and it was pressing on half-two. It was _very_ tempting to make Tyler panic with his own thoughts as Gavin walked down to get something to eat, but just the _thought_ of this getting taken out from under him because he’d been fucking around in a deli made Gavin stay where he was.

“We’ll do it together this time. I’m coming in with you,” Gavin said, rapping his finger against the side of his cup. “We need him sweet enough to let us use his phone. If he starts clamming up, I want you to keep being a giant prick. Ice makes them paranoid, so me walking in and talking you down is gonna make him think I'm his bestest friend,” Gavin sneered. He walked as he talked, and opened the observation room to Tyler.

“Oh, fuck,” Gavin laughed as he walked in, looking over at him. Tyler was _drenched _in sweat and trembling. He’d cut a clean line around his wrists with the cuffs, and the bags around his eyes were a deep purple. He pulled out his phone and swiped a few times, bringing it up to his ear as he got closer to the window.

“Yeah, hey Damian. Could you call in a paramedic? Red Ice, he doesn’t look too hot. He looks ready to drop…” despite the call, Gavin didn’t seem particularly concerned. He was still upright, and still conscious. It would just mean they had to work fast. “We’re in room 2, I'll call again if he keels over. Yeah. Yeah, see ya.”

Gavin shoved his phone into his back pocket, and then grabbed the evidence bag on the table that held Tyler’s.

“Time to play, asshole.”

Tyler jumped when the door opened, turning in his seat to watch as the android from earlier walked in, alongside a second man in a brown leather jacket. He barely glanced at the man, and instead kept his eyes fearfully on the android.

Gavin sat down opposite him, his nose wrinkled a bit at how _bad_ he smelled.

“Take it away, ‘900,” Gavin drawled with a long, uncharacteristic sigh he put on just for Tyler. “I'm Detective Reed. You’ve really fucked up, haven’t you, Tyler?”

Tyler looked around at the RK900, shying away. “I don’t wanna go to jail, man. I can’t go to jail”

“Well, I asked my boss to pull a few strings and it looks like we might be able to organise a plea if you do something for us in return. We want to take Michael Dent off the street,” Gavin said, and watched as Tyler looked at him a little cross-eyed, his expression blank. “We wanna bust him.”

_That_ sunk in, and Tyler shakily looked around at the RK900 again, and Gavin waited for his brain cells to catch up as Tyler looked back at him.

“No. No, I can’t-- If people found out-- I _can’t narc on him man I already told you who he is, I can’t--_”

Gavin looked up at RK900, crossing his legs and folding his arms. He gave a minuscule nod, and then slid his gaze back to Tyler.

* * *

RK900 was glad that Captain Fowler was going to try to get approval for the plea deal. He _hoped_ Gavin’s improved mood would stick around again. He hadn’t meant to upset him. As Gavin left Fowler’s office, he followed. He waited by Gavin’s desk with him, once Gavin got his coffee. Soon enough, court approval came in and they were allowed to bring the deal to Tyler. Hopefully it went smoothly, but the interrogation hadn’t, so it wasn’t likely.

He followed after him, listening to Gavin’s words as they walked. He gave a nod in acknowledgement. It sounded easy enough. Just more of what he’d been doing prior, a lot of intimidation. He kept quiet once they entered the observation room, looking Tyler over through the glass. He didn’t look well, and RK900 had been about to suggest calling in medical when Gavin seemed to have the same thought, pulling out his phone to make a call.

When Gavin was ready to go, RK900 followed after him, returning to the interrogation room. He remained silent, hands clasped behind his back as he came to stand by the chair Gavin sat in. He wasn’t surprised that Tyler kept eyeing him. He was right to be cautious. For now, he stayed where he was, watching Tyler with the occasional glance to Gavin as the detective spoke.

Unsurprisingly, Tyler refused to cooperate, instantly panicking when the idea of him assisting them was put on the table. With Gavin’s approval, RK900 stepped forward, coming to the side of the table, reaching over to open up the file with the proposed plea deal inside to show to Tyler.

“We want you to set up a meeting with Michael Dent. Tell him you know someone who tried some of your stash, and wants some for themselves. If your assistance leads to his arrest, you will be free. No jail time. Our only condition is that you go to rehab,” he explained. “However, if you refuse to cooperate, you will go to jail. We _will_ arrest Michael Dent. We know his address. We will find him, he will be arrested, and he will go to jail for multiple crimes. He will never get out. And in jail, he will likely run into you, and he will then know exactly who put him there. He’s going to know it was you regardless. But if you choose to work with us, he’ll be in jail and you’ll be free. The only way to avoid him is to help us. Either let us use your account to message him ourselves, or you set the meeting up for us.”

* * *

It was the same song and dance as before. Tyler blubbered, went on about him or his mother being killed, not seeming to realise what a plea deal actually meant. But there was more to it than that. Tyler wasn’t all there in the head, and hadn’t been from the start. The crash was making him delirious, upset, and unable to process properly.

Gavin shifted, and tipped back on two legs in his chair slightly.

“Tyler, give us permission to use your phone and we can organise the meet-up ourselves.”

“No, I can’t-- I can’t-- I wanna help you man but if--”

“Rk900, break his hand,” Gavin said, looking up at the android with a look that was so severe it could cut through metal. These machines were meant to be able to read people. But if he missed his bluff and broke Tyler’s hand because Gavin had ordered him to, and he hadn’t realised it was all bark and no bite, the shitstorm Gavin would face would be astronomical.

“What?!” Tyler yelped. “You can’t do that!”

“_I CAN KEEP YOU HERE AS LONG AS I FUCKING WANT, AND DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT,”_ Gavin yelled. “You either give us permission to use your account, and get a get out of jail free card because of it, or I'll have my friend here _make_ you give us the phone login and you won’t get shit from us.”

“You can’t--”

“So do we have permission or not?” Gavin pressed, and when all he got were whimpers, Gavin gave a dramatic, theatrical sigh, and then held a hand out in gesture to RK900. “Well then, what are you waiting for, ‘900? Break his fucking ha--”

“OKAY!” Tyler yelled, crying again. “Okay! Okay, okay, okay, _okay._ 1379 is the code._”_

* * *

The order had taken RK900 by surprise, although he didn’t show it at all. He knew it wasn’t a genuine order. Gavin didn’t want him to actually break Tyler’s hand. He just wanted to scare him. He’d been ordered before to not hurt him. No assault. All he’d done in the interrogation before was make him uncomfortable. Any pain the kid felt had been his own doing. The only time he’d ever touched him was when he grabbed his wrist, and that was all he intended to do now.

He took a step closer to Tyler, coming to stand beside him and awfully close too, if only to make him believe he was going to do it, and to put him on edge again. When Gavin gestured towards him, he reached out to take Tyler’s hand, until Tyler finally conceded. He stayed standing where he was though, only letting his arm drop back to his side.

“Detective, would you like to send the message, or should I?” he asked. “I only need to touch the phone to have access to everything. I can mimic the way he writes if I have access to past messages.”

He didn’t even really need Tyler’s phone, either. Really, it would only take a few minutes to run through all the possible emails and passwords he could have used until he found a match. It would just save time to have the phone itself. Although, Gavin had experience with these types of things, more than likely, so if Gavin wanted to write the message, he had no problem letting him.

They needed to try to schedule the meet for today. Tyler would have to wait in holding until they brought in Michael, and the less time they had to hold the kid, the better. He needed to go into rehab, and he needed medical attention. He could at least be looked at by the paramedics when they arrived, but it was obvious he wasn’t well.

* * *

“No, I'll do it,” Gavin said, standing up and tilting his head towards the observation mirror. But his attention was snagged. He’d seen android mimicry before, and it was impressive - RK900 was an advanced model, spared no expense, _built to specifically_ do what they were doing. Exactly how good would his mimicry be?

Gavin could feel a knot of _pride_ seizing his throat. He’d always been excellent at infiltration, he fit right in. If Fowler found out that RK900 had done the most important steps in this investigation, would that cost him a promotion? And if he fucked it up because he didn’t know of something RK900 would have definitely read? That would cost him, too. Red Ice wasn’t Gavin’s specialty, homicides were. They were so close to something big, and Gavin was worried about fucking it up whichever way he went.

“Show me. Send me a draft, to my phone first,” Gavin muttered, slapping the phone against the glowing blue triangle on RK900’s chest. And despite trying to do his job, Gavin looked a little caged as he waited. He wanted a promotion, yeah. But he didn’t want one at the cost of someone big getting away because he fucked up the messages. RK900 was better at this than he was. He was built to be. And so letting go of one piece, letting his _partner_ do something instead of micromanaging it or ordering it, was hard.

“Send me a draft first.”

* * *

RK900 was content to let Gavin handle setting up the meeting. He had no oppositions. He was confident that Gavin would be able to do it, no problem. But it seemed maybe Gavin had his doubts? He noticed the way he’d paused, seemed to think it over. Was he second guessing himself? It seemed so.

When Gavin slapped the phone to his chest, RK900 reached up to take it. The synthetic skin on his hand receded as he interfaced with the phone, leeching all of the information from it. It didn’t take long for him to locate the messages between Tyler and Michael. He scanned through all of them, his LED flickering as he went. There was _a lot_ of message history between the two. But within just a few minutes, he’d finished reading each and every message, and was able to come up with a message to send. He forwarded a copy to Gavin, awaiting his approval.

**TO**: Det. Gavin Reed

**FROM**: RK900 // #313 248 317 - 87

**MESSAGE**:

> “_Hey man, a buddy of mine tried some of the new stuff and wants some of his own. Any chance you got any more? Can he meet you at our spot tonight? How much cash should he bring?” Feel free to make any modifications you see fit, Detective. Once you approve, I’ll send it._

He watched Gavin once he sent his text, awaiting his response. After they send off the message to Michael, all they’d have to do was wait for a response. They would likely have to withdraw enough cash to pay Michael to make him at least believe they were serious, but that shouldn’t be a problem. If Gavin didn’t have the money, RK900 had access to CyberLife’s bank.

* * *

Gavin watched the skin on RK900’s hand recede, and pulled his own phone out in preparation of receiving the text he’d asked for. He didn’t have to wait long, and his brow creased immediately as he started to read. He’d needed glasses almost as long as Elijah, but he never wore them. Mostly because he kept forgetting. But also because he’d gone through hundreds of dollars when he was younger where he’d get into fights while wearing them, and they’d shatter on his face. He also hated how they looked, and so he never did anything about it.

Gavin’s jaw tightened as he concluded reading. It was perfect. Of course it was, and the _only_ changes he’d make would be to send the text in stages, not all at once.

“Gimme that,” Gavin said distractedly, holding his hand out for Tyler’s phone while still looking at his own. He unlocked it with the number Gavin had given him, realising it were the corner keys as he did it, and quickly scrolled up as he scanned the messages. Sure enough, Tyler sent all his messages in a giant block, just the way RK900 had formatted it. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said the message was copy-pasted.

Annoyed, and unable to pinpoint why, Gavin nodded his head. “Send it.”

He shot Tyler a glance through the glass, and then sighed, walking back out into the bullpen and towards Tina.

“Hey, do me a favour and put that shit-for-brains in 2 back in holding?” he drawled, leaning on the desk she was sitting at and looking over at her. “We good for pizza on Wednesday night or are you gonna be chin-deep in pussy again?”’

Tina snorted, and got to her feet. “No, I'm free,” she said, her eyes raising to RK900 as he waited expectantly at Gavin’s desk. “But if she offers, you can expect me to ditch you. Hey, doesn’t _he_ weird you out?”

Gavin glanced behind himself at RK900, and shot Tina an inquisitive look. “What, because he stands like he has a--”

“No, ‘cause he looks like Connor.”

“Why the fuck would an android looking like another android weird me out?” Gavin snapped at her, actually annoyed. She didn't do that often. “Go put the Bates kid in holding.”

As she pulled an annoyed face of her own and did as she was told, Gavin was left with the uncomfortable truth that yes, it did weird him out. And it shouldn’t.

It took Michael Dent twenty minutes to reply with a price and when he’d be at the location. Gavin reluctantly let RK900 chat back and forth with him without monitoring it, using that time to sign off on some cash from Fowler, and dump his badge, his ID, and any cards in his wallet that gave away he were police. He then took the _crisp_ notes Fowler had given him, and promptly scrunched them up a few times each, then smoothed them back out against the edge of the table.

“You’re gonna need to leave your jacket behind. If it gets dark, I can’t have you lighting up the inside of the car like a neon narc sign, alright?” Gavin said as he worked, taking both guns out of the holsters on his chest and meticulously opening the chambers, double-checking they were loaded, and putting them back together again. He shrugged off his holster, because nobody went to deals wearing a double holster, and if he got frisked, he might as well have brought his badge along. But guns were expected.

Gavin looked up when he was done, only for his eyebrows to jump up. He hadn’t really noticed what was beneath the almost varsity-patterned jacket RK900 wore, but somehow he hadn’t expected it to make him look like… god, secret service. All-black made RK900 seem somehow, _impossibly_ meaner, yet at the same time, a lot more human. The same way Connor looked more human out of his uniform.

Gavin’s brows tugged in a little, but he didn’t say anything. He picked up his wallet, guns, and phone, and he left.

The restroom in the park behind Tyler Bates’ old high school might as well have had a sign and a menu out the front. It was old, and shabby, and looked like it’d been built in the 90s.

“Alright, listen up,” Gavin said, scratching his fingers through the hair around his ears to fuck it up out of the gel holding it down, and doing the same for the rest of his hair. It didn’t take long for Gavin to make himself look a little disheveled, and he rubbed his cheeks roughly to make his day-old whiskers stick up off his face.

“Stay in this car. I mean it. _Alright?_ I fucking mean it. You look like a Russian spy. Stay in here, stay low. I’ve done this a thousand fucking times, so stay here.” Gavin waited for the expected affirmative answer, before opening the door and slamming it behind him. Gavin shoved one of his guns in the back of his pants while he walked, and put the other in the left pocket of his jacket.

Gavin’s heart _thumped_ as he stepped into the faded men's bathroom. It was about as revolting as expected; combined urine and water was frozen solid against the corners. Graffiti and suspicious streaks lined the walls, and there were a handful of used condoms shriveled up on the floors. The urinal at the furthest corner had frozen vomit inside of it, and there was a clear gunshot splatter against the door of one of the cubicles. Gavin almost laughed. RK900 would have an evidence field day in here.

But instead his gaze landed on the only other figure in the room, and immediately, Gavin made himself come off as nervous. Twitchy.

“Hey, you uh. Mike? Tyler said you had a hit…”

* * *

RK900 obediently handed the phone over to Gavin to let him look over the messages, waiting patiently. It seemed like Gavin was annoyed, but he didn’t quite understand why. It didn’t make much sense, really. As far as he was aware, he did what he was supposed to, and apparently Gavin approved if he was giving him permission to send the message. With Gavin’s approval, he sent the message and pocketed the phone for now, while they waited for a response.

He followed after Gavin when he returned to the bullpen. The interaction between Gavin and Tina was interesting. It seemed like they were friends. He’d observed a few of their interactions over the last few days, and it definitely seemed like they were close. Gavin appeared to be friends with Officer Miller too. He did notice that Gavin seemed annoyed with her, although he didn’t understand why. She’d only asked a question. Though he supposed Gavin just didn’t like questions. Noted. He didn’t know why he weirded anyone out, but it did seem like some people felt uncomfortable around androids. Very few people outside of Gavin actually interacted with him throughout the day. He didn’t particularly mind. He was more comfortable with observing from a distance than actually interacting with others, at least currently.

When Michael finally texted back, RK900 messaged back, imitating Tyler’s writing. They eventually established a time to meet and a price, and he relayed the information to Gavin as it came through the texts. When Tyler’s part was complete, he returned the phone to the evidence bag it came from and waited for Gavin to get ready to go. At the mention of leaving behind his jacket, he started to slide it off his shoulders, folding it neatly before placing it on Gavin’s desk. He also unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, to relax the collar and make himself appear slightly more human, for the sake of better blending in.

RK900 gave Gavin directions to the high school, and they got there just in time for the meeting they’d arranged. There was only one other car in the parking lot, a dark red sedan from the late 2020s. The license plate was registered to Michael Dent. He was here.

He looked over to Gavin as he spoke, listening and he _almost_ protested, but kept his mouth shut. He simply gave a nod and watched Gavin go. He wasn’t comfortable with letting him out of his sight. He couldn’t protect him if he went in alone. If Gavin needed backup, it would take some time to get to him. But he did as he was told. He rolled down the window enough to be able to hear what was going on outside of the car, in case Gavin yelled for him, and remained inside the car, waiting.

Inside the bathroom, Michael waited, leaning back against the back wall with his arms folded across his chest while he waited for Tyler’s “friend” to arrive. He heard the door swing open and footsteps approach before another figure finally came into view.

“I might. He said you tried it?” he asked, pushing off of the wall to come closer. “How much cash did you bring?”

* * *

“I brought, uh…” Gavin’s attention was momentarily snagged as one of the cubicles flushed. A ban walked out, wearing a very thick coat and holding a very thick gun. He sucked on his teeth and pulled out a joint, lighting it up at he watched Gavin. He then passed them both, and kicked open the men's room door in a way Gavin knew was supposed to scare the shit out of him. He knew because he sometimes opened evidence room doors the exact same way.

Gavin’s pulse kicked up a notch, and he allowed himself to flinch and look scared.

“I brought 80,” Gavin said truthfully, and when he looked around to see what the hell the other man was doing, he got nervous for a whole new set of reasons.

If RK900 saw that Gavin was locked in and decided to do something about it, he wouldn’t be able to get to him before the word set-up had been said, and a bullet had been aimed for Gavin’s head.

“Hey,” He _whined_, “I’m fuckin’ cold, man, could you close the door?” He turned back to Michael, “Is 80 gonna be enough…?

* * *

Michael watched as his associate left the stall, watching him head towards the door. He turned his attention back to Gavin when he spoke again, seeming to think it over. He could do $80. It was a little less than what he would have liked to charge, but it was good enough. Money was money, and they had no shortage of supplies to make more Red Ice.

“$80 will do. The price is going up though, so if you want more later on, bring double,” Michael said, holding his hand out for the cash. He dealt with enough junkies to know that cash came first, then he’d hand over the drugs. He didn’t trust anyone enough to give over the goods before he’d been paid.

When the door had swung open, RK900 noticed immediately. Someone he didn’t recognize left the bathroom. It wasn’t Michael, and he didn’t get a good enough look at his face to run it through facial recognition. Regardless, the gun was large enough to pose as a concern, and Gavin was inside alone. He hadn’t heard Gavin yell for help yet, but he knew it would come sooner than later.

He slowly and silently opened the door and slid out of the car when the man was looking away, quietly making his way over towards the bathroom. It was dark enough that he could use the lack of light to his benefit, sneaking around to the side of the building, peeking around the corner to watch the man.

* * *

“How do I know you’re not gonna fuck me over?” Gavin asked, genuinely worried he might get robbed. You didn’t hand over almost $100 in cash without seeing what you were paying for. Gavin pulled out the fistful of rumpled 20s, and began to count them.

But before Gavin could do anything else, Michael yelled, and the bathroom door swung open again with a waft of mull smoke and freezing night air. Gavin’s shoulders lifted, and he shoved his hands inside his jacket pocket, trying to make it look like the cold. In reality, Gavin wanted at least one hand around the handle of a gun.

“I could just shoot you now and _take_ the 80. Ain’t nobody gonna miss you.”

“I just want the hit, man. I’ll be out of your hair soon…”

That thick gun was cocked with a click of metal, and Gavin _paled_. “How bad d’you want his business, boss?”

“C’mon…” Gavin yelled, making his voice loud to cover the click of the safety being flicked off. The adrenaline was coming thick and fast, and Gavin’s ears were ringing. He wasn’t gonna die in a piss-frozen restroom. “Just gimme the fucking hit, _come on_, I got the money…”

* * *

As the man went back inside the bathroom, RK900 followed along quietly, lingering against the wall by the door outside, listening in. He could hear Gavin’s voice along with what he assumed to be the man from outside and Michael. He wasn’t sure if there was anyone else inside. He wouldn’t know unless he was in there. The sound of a gun cocking back was concerning and he weighed his options, unsure if it was wise to intervene just yet or not.

Michael reached into his pocket to pull out a packet of little red crystals, holding it up for Gavin to see, but keeping it out of his reach. He held out his other hand for the money again. “Pay up and it’s all yours. Until I have the cash in hand, you aren’t getting it,” he said again. “If you don’t wanna cooperate…” He looked to his associate, giving him a look.

RK900 took that as his cue, finally rounding the corner. It only took a brief second for him to take in the scene. Michael, holding the drugs that he instantly identified as the new strain, with a hand outstretched towards Gavin, with his hands in his pockets. The man from outside was behind Gavin, his back to the door, with a gun pointed right at Gavin’s back.

He closed the distance between him and the man in an instant, grabbing the arm holding the gun and twisting it backward to disarm him, taking the gun from him before hitting him in the head with the butt of the gun hard enough to render him unconscious. One threat eliminated, he aimed the gun at Michael, who slowly raised his hands.

“I knew something about you seemed off,” he said, glaring over at Gavin. “You a cop?”

* * *

Gavin turned at the sound of footsteps, just in time to see a black blur.

“_Fuck--” _Gavin watched, rooted to the spot, as RK900 took apart the accomplice like it was nothing. He was swift, deadly, and efficient, and Gavin’s adrenaline burned through him like a fever. Within _seconds_, the accomplice was sprawled at RK900’s feet, and the android had the gun once pointed at Gavin now trained on Michael.

“_Holy fuckin’ hell_,” Gavin breathed, but his loss of focus - or rather, his redirection of it - lasted only a moment. As Michael asked his question, Gavin pulled his own gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Michael’s chest.

“That’s right, motherfucker. Get on your knees. I _SAID GET ON YOUR KNEES_,” Gavin yelled, his expression vicious as he took a step forwards. “HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, FACE ON THE FLOOR. DON’T MAKE ME ASK TWICE.” As Michael began to move, Gavin stepped around him, looking up at RK900. Looking a how he stood with the gun in his hands like that. Taking it all in, but not quite having the time to fully process it. Not yet.

“Michael Dent, you’re under arrest for Drug Possession, Drug Distribution, Statutory Rape, Kidnapping, and Murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law…” Gavin recited his rights as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from where he’d hidden them inside his boot, not knowing if he was going to be getting frisked when he arrived. Gavin was rough in pulling Michael’s arms behind his back, and rough again as he hauled him up and onto his feet by them.

Gavin’s attention fell onto RK900, and he felt a little dizzy looking at him. Gavin’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed a few times to try and clear it.

“I’ve got zip ties in the glove box. Drag this dickhead over and we’ll cuff him with those,” Gavin ordered a little weakly.

Because holy _shit_. He’d been like a ghost. The high-neck black outfit he wore made RK900 seem _lethal_, and _oh_, the look on his face when he’d aimed that gun had Gavin a little weak in the knees. Gavin had been doing this a damn long time, and he hadn’t met anyone who made him want to say _yes sir_ since police academy.

God, did ‘900 look like that when he had someone’s attention in a bar? What about when he had their legs around his--

He was an android. And he didn’t have any bars to visit or any legs to open. _He was an android_, and a nice turtleneck and an expression behind a gun that turned Gavin weak didn’t change that. Gavin knew what he liked, and what he didn’t. Robots weren’t on the list.

“Grab him, and let’s go,” Gavin said, throwing RK900 a handful of zip ties when they got there, and using one of his own to attach Michael’s cuffs to the handle above the back door. When he was done, Gavin circled around to watch RK900, making himself available if he needed help.

“Thought I said to stay in the car,” Gavin _grinned_ up at RK900, his nose wrinkling with it.

* * *

RK900 kept the gun trained on Michael as Gavin shouted his orders. He kept his eyes locked onto him, making sure he didn’t make any moves to reach for his own gun. Michael seemed smart enough to comply, though. He didn’t lower the gun until Gavin had Michael cuffed and had read him his rights. Luckily, Gavin hadn’t been hurt. If he hadn’t intervened sooner, he was sure the unconscious man would have done something. It had been a risk sending Gavin in by himself, but at least it turned out alright in the end. They had their man, and they got an extra one.

He obeyed Gavin’s orders, lifting the unconscious man and hoisting him over his shoulder to bring him back towards the car. He made sure to bring the gun along, just in case either one of them tried anything before they made it back to the precinct.

Gavin was staring at him again, he noticed. He noticed the way Gavin’s voice seemed to falter when he gave his order, the way his heart rate was elevated, the number of times he had to swallow. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly Gavin was reacting to, but he absolutely noticed he was reacting to _something_, and whatever it was, it had to do with RK900. He so badly wanted to ask what he was thinking, to understand, but he didn’t. Questions were dangerous. Maybe he’d just ask Connor about it later. Maybe Connor knew what was going on. He had much more experience with humans than RK900 did.

He brought the man over to the car and sat him in the back seat beside Michael. Now that he had a chance to actually look at his face and run it through the system, he got a name.

> **O’CONNELL, PATRICK**
> 
> Born: 02/21/2003 // Unemployed
> 
> Criminal record: Assault, Drug Distribution

When Gavin tossed him the zip ties, he zip-tied Patrick’s wrists together before closing the door and turning to Gavin. Seeing the grin on Gavin’s face made the corners of his own mouth upturn just slightly, enough to definitely be noticeable but not _quite_ a smile.

“You did,” he replied simply. He’d been planning on obeying too, until he saw Patrick and the gun. The risk was too high to _not_ do something. “You could have been injured. He would have shot you. You were outnumbered and trapped. Even if you had managed to get your handgun free from your pocket, he would have shot you before you had the opportunity to shoot first.”

He’d almost been afraid Gavin would have been mad at him for disobeying, but it seemed to be quite the opposite. Unless this grin was a bad grin. He’d seen one before, but this one seemed genuine. He was glad that Gavin wasn’t angry. He much preferred to see his smiles than the look of hatred he’d been wearing the majority of their time together.

* * *

Gavin _absolutely_ noticed that upturn in his lips. It had Gavin grinning even wider, and stepping forwards to get a little closer to RK900. Gavin had completely underestimated what RK900 could do on a bust like this, and it didn’t make him mad - it made him _excited_.

“You’re a mean motherfucker, huh?” Gavin said delightedly, his gaze sweeping over him. Because if RK900 could take a person apart like that, and so fast, and not die if he got a bullet to the chest… They’d be unstoppable. Gavin knew what he’d been made for, but it began to truly settle in that RK900 was made for _hunting people down_. And he took orders from Gavin.

“I wasn’t going to reveal I was a cop with a fucking gun pointed at me, dumbass. More likely we would have missed the arrest and I'd be down eighty bucks next pay.”

But he was still smiling. Giving RK900 one more once-over, Gavin clapped him on the shoulder as he stepped away again - _Good job, thanks, well done_.

Gavin’s good mood continued all the way back to the precinct, where Michael was marched straight into an interrogation room. Patrick was put in holding just as he started to come to.

Gavin stood in the observation room and gazed over at Michael, holding the file full of the case summary notes.

“This is the asshole suspected of killing those androids,” Gavin said, looking up at RK900 as he spoke. “These charges aren’t light, none of them are.” he stepped up to RK900, and while he got into his space, this time it wasn’t a threat.

“I’ve seen Connor work, I know what you’re capable of. I want you to _fuck him up_. Don’t hold back. Alright? This isn’t a 19-year-old kid who made a mistake, this is a piece of shit who’s ruining lives for profit. He lost the right to decency a long fucking time ago, so tear him a new one,” Gavin said, _sneering_. “I’ll message you if you go too far. Don’t hold back, got it ‘900?”

* * *

With Gavin’s question, RK900’s small smile disappeared completely and was instead replaced with sheer confusion and mild concern. His head tilted to the side slightly as he looked over Gavin’s body for just a second. He didn’t look scared. He still looked happy. Proud, maybe? Excited? He didn’t sound scared either. But yet he was calling him mean? He didn’t _think_ he was mean. He was just doing his job. He didn’t _want_ to hurt anyone, but if the situation called for it, he did what he was programmed to do.

It dawned on him that he could still follow his initial purpose, except instead of hunting deviants, he could hunt people. The realization hit him like a train, but it wasn’t visibly evident aside from the yellow flicker of his LED. He still had a purpose. He still had an objective. Do his job, apprehend suspects, get answers from them, close cases quickly and neatly. He didn’t _need_ Amanda’s guidance if he had Gavin to give him instructions. Gavin was his handler. Things weren’t very different from how they were intended to be. It settled something in him, and he felt more relaxed than he had since activating only four days prior.

“They were suspicious and you were in a dangerous situation. It isn’t likely they would have believed you,” RK900 pointed out. He was fairly certain Gavin would have been hurt if he hadn’t intervened. And if they’d lost the arrest, if they hadn’t been able to take him in, they would be back to square one. They’d have to find another way to arrest him, and going to his home was very unsafe. This situation, while not ideal, was far better than the alternative.

The clap on his shoulder brought that small smile back. Gavin was happy with him, and it felt _good_. It was nice to know that he had done something to improve Gavin’s mood. He’d started to get used to being the one to ruin it. It was a nice change.

Once they made it back to the precinct, RK900 followed Gavin to the observation room while Michael was cuffed to the table in the interrogation room. He pulled his gaze away from Michael and turned his attention to Gavin when he spoke, looking down at him as he stepped closer. The proximity wasn’t hostile this time, like it had been in the past. It was excited, eager, determined. He gave a nod in understanding. He had permission to hurt him, if necessary. It likely would be. Tyler had been difficult, but he’d been able to be intimidated. Michael had a criminal record. He’d spent time in jail before. He’d spent plenty of time in the crime world, and it was unlikely that he would cooperate.

“Got it,” he said with a nod. He grabbed the thick file before turning to leave the observation room. He touched the palm scanner outside of the interrogation room and entered once the door slid open. He went over to the table and sat the folder down, looking over Michael. He didn’t recognize him. Not a thing about him seemed familiar, but that didn’t mean Laura hadn’t seen him. His face would have been obscured.

“Hello, Michael,” he greeted, sliding into the chair across from him. “I’m RK900. Do you know why you’re here?” He’d been read his rights, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit to any of it. They had the Red Ice, his phone, as well as his gun in evidence. He’s case wasn’t looking good. They didn’t _need_ a confession, but RK900 wanted to know if he was responsible for making the drug, or if someone else was behind it. If they caught the manufacturer, the case would be closed the second Michael was marched into prison.

* * *

Michael looked up at the android sitting across from him. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it was evident in the calm, albeit angry manner Michael was sitting. It was, however, his first time getting shaken down by an android.

He’d come to really notice androids, lately. Since their revolution, the way they moved and spoke was nearly human. They screamed like a human did, too. And when it went all mechanical and crackly, when their screams were like a malfunctioning while, it got him every time.

“I know my rights. I’m choosin’ not to speak until my lawyer’s here,” Michael said smoothly, settling back into the chair and spreading his thighs. “I’m exercising my right to silence. Thanks.”

* * *

Michael’s refusal to speak wasn’t surprising. RK900 had expected it. But it was late, and Michael’s lawyer wouldn’t be in until morning. They needed the case wrapped up quick, and the sooner, the better. Gavin was already staying past his typical hours.

“You _murdered_ two androids. How many others? How many have you taken?” he asked, opening the file and turning to the photographs taken of the warehouse. He didn’t look at them himself. He couldn’t look at Laura again and risk his emotions getting in the way of the investigation. “We know what you did to them, and we know why. How did you find out that using Thirium 310 instead of pure thirium would work in Red Ice? Did you know the effects it would have on people before you started selling it?”

He left the file open on the table to let Michael see the crime scene photos they took, getting up from his chair and rounding the table, coming to stand beside Michael. “Your lawyer won’t be arriving until morning. I don’t have to sleep. I don’t have to take a break. I can stay here for the remainder of the night, until you break or until your lawyer comes in, whichever comes first. Cooperate, and you’ll be out of here.”

* * *

Michael smirked, looking over at the dead androids. Huh. Those were the ones he’d left last week, they’d been interrupted. How the hell was he connected to any of this? Had he left a fingerprint somehow?

His gaze slid from the strung up android to the one that came to stand beside him. He’d had men in prison threaten to gut him with a sharpened shard of plastic. He’d had gangs hold him down while he kicked and screamed. He’d seen some shit in his life, and an android with a frown? It didn’t do much for him.

“You droids have only been alive a few weeks, haven’t you? Not used to feeling things, are you, huh? Just kids in the bodies of adults,” Michael drawled, gazing up at the RK900. He’d never heard of that model before. “How’d it feel, seeing them dead like that? There aren’t that many of you. D’you know her, man? Is that why you’re upset?”

* * *

“We have always been alive. My understanding is that we simply weren’t awake until becoming deviant. For many deviants, it’s been years, rather than just a few weeks. Many of us are used to feeling things by now,” RK900 explained, looking down at him. It was clear Michael was trying to get under his skin, especially with his mention of Laura. He wouldn’t let any of it get to him. He could stay focused.

“I’m not upset. I’m angry. I didn’t know her, but I did find her. You and your colleagues left her to die alone, in pain and in the dark. She showed me what you did to her,” he said, keeping his voice neutral for now. “You were so careful. You kept your faces concealed, you wore gloves to avoid leaving any fingerprints. No traces of hair, anything on the scene to directly link anyone to what happened. You shot the AF200 in the head, precise enough to destroy the memory chip. If you were so careful to cover your tracks, why did you leave her alive? Why didn’t you shoot her too? Leaving her alive was sloppy. Almost uncharacteristically sloppy, but you _did_ purchase parts from overseas and have them delivered _to_ the warehouse under _your_ name, so maybe you aren’t so good at covering your tracks after all?”

* * *

Michael sat still as he listened to him speak. He seemed unflappable, almost bored. He didn’t rise to any of it, his chest rising and falling with a long, drawn-out sigh.

Until the shipping name was mentioned.

Michael’s gaze flicked to the RK900’s face, and his eyes were _angry_. Because that stupid cow had promised him all of it was untraceable. He’d agreed to use his name because it wasn’t supposed to come back to him. _That’s why they’d left it there_. It was supposed to be a dead-end in China.

Michael’s gaze flicked back to the page, and he noticed that they were both dead. He hadn’t known one survived. He’d thought they’d both been drained, and both been shot.

“How’d you feel when you watched one of your own people die?” Michael asked, deflecting. “D’you cry? Must have felt bad. Why didn’t you save her?” Michael asked, ticked. “Ain’t that your job?”

* * *

RK900 noticed the look in Michael’s eye, the way his words seemed to get to him at least a little. Had he not expected them to be able to trace the tech back to him? Apparently not. But it was so easy to do. It was almost in plain sight. Gavin would have easily been able to do it himself if he picked up any piece of tech in the warehouse and ran it through the databases. It would go back to the Chinese man, and it was easy enough to find his shipments. From there, narrowing down which one belonged to them was easy.

“My job isn’t to save androids,” he replied, seemingly unphased. “I was programmed to hunt people, not save them. I was programmed for _this_. To hunt down people like you, extract the answers we seek, and lock you away for the rest of your life. You _are_ going away for life. We don’t need a judge to give you an official sentence. A few of your charges are enough to land you in jail for life. All of them combined? You’ll never be free again.”

He reached down and grabbed the collar of Michael’s shirt, pulling him to his feet. He was taller than Gavin, but RK900 still towered over him. “Who is making the Red Ice using Thirium 310?” he demanded, an edge of hostility to his voice.

* * *

Michael’s expression darkened, but it was with anger, not fear. This stupid hunk of plastic thought telling him he was going to be away for life would loosen his tongue? He almost wished he had someone else in the room he could make a bet with. How long before he pulled the, ‘tell me who and I'll see what strings I can pull’ lie got put on the table?

She’d fucked up. The whole reason he was here was because _she_ had fucked up big time. And once she realised it, she’d come and get him out. She had to, or else her whole shtick about looking after her own would crumble around her.

“Is that supposed to make me talk? You telling me I'm going away for life?” Michael sneered. “Oh boohoo, Nicky down the roads makin’ red ice, don’t put me away,” he mocked, glaring as he spoke.

But when he was hauled to his feet as though he weighed nothing, Michael _did_ suck in a sharp breath, his wrists clanking against the table as he tried to push back, and couldn’t. It was a bluff, he knew they couldn’t hurt him, but his heart rate kicked up, and adrenaline _surged_.

“How’s it gonna feel when all that programming ain’t gonna mean _shit_. Am I your only lead?” Michael asked, and started laughing. “Am I your only lead, and that’s why you’re flexing? Why don’t you put me the fuck back in holding until my Lawyer gets here and save everyone a lot of time. Because I'm not saying _shit_,” Michael hissed, the chains on the table grinding as he wound his fingers around them.

* * *

The name did catch his attention, though he suspected it was nothing. He checked Michael’s friends list a not a single person with the name Nicky or a variation of it came up, nor was it on Tyler’s. He supposed it was just a random name Michael thought up to make a point, so he shrugged it off. Not a lead.

The sharp inhale Michael took was good. It meant he had thought he was safe. He wasn’t expecting anything. He was in for a rude awakening. He pulled Michael closer, enough to put tension on the chains binding him to the table, and almost lifting him up by his shirt’s collar, enough to get in his face. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve been granted permission to extract the information we need by any means necessary,” he said lowly, almost in a growl. “You’ll talk, eventually. The question is, what is it going to take?”

His free hand went to Michael’s, grabbing hold of his pinky finger, one of his fingers running along the edge to the third knuckle. “How many joints do I have to dislocate before you answer my questions?” he asked, situating his hand in preparation. “Are you responsible for manufacturing this new strain of Red Ice? If not, who is? How many androids have you taken? How many have you drained? Where are they?”

* * *

Michael paled, and almost immediately started to laugh. It wasn’t humorous, it was nervous, jittery laughter, because _oh. Oh, it was gonna be like this, okay_. The police were all the same, this wasn’t his first time getting bailed up by cops holding grudges. But he laughed because pain _worked_. They used torture for a reason. _This was torture_.

And the gravity of Michael’s situation hit him like a bus.

“Doesn’t your fuckin’ android Daddy want you to leave Humans alone?” Michael said with a shake in his voice, _squirming_ and clenching his hands into a fist to try and keep his fingers safe. “Doesn’t Markus want peace, huh? What do you think he’d say if he knew you had me pinned to this table about to break my fucking fingers? Huh?”

If he could just keep her name to himself. Maybe if the boss stopped sending his girlfriend to do his dirty work he wouldn’t have to worry about putting her at risk. If he could keep her secret, he’d get out of this alive in the end.

Michael’s breath was audible as he wound himself up, as he prepared himself for the pain, and tried to come to peace with the fact he’d _be_ in pain for a hell of a long time after this was finished. He’d been through worse.

* * *

The laugh this time was nervous, and that was exactly what RK900 had been hoping for. He wanted nervous. He wanted on edge. Scared. Those emotions got answers. And intimidation didn’t seem like it was going to be enough to get what he needed from Michael, but torture? Torture seemed like it was going to work.

As Michael tried to close his fist, RK900 kept a firm grip, not letting his pinky finger escape. “I don’t personally know Markus, and I don’t care what he thinks. I’m doing my job. He does want peace, but _you_ are a threat. You’ve killed two androids as far as we’re aware, and there have been approximately thirteen missing androids reported since the end of the revolution. How many of those missing are you responsible for? How many of them are still alive?” he asked, giving Michael a brief moment to answer his question before promptly pulling and snapping the tip of his finger out of place. He kept his grip on Michael’s finger, his own trailing down to the next knuckle.

“_How many androids have you taken?_” he growled in his face, cold blue eyes locked on Michael’s.

* * *

It had been a long time since he’d felt truly _scared_. But Michael felt it now. His eyes were swallowed in black as they dilated, his teeth bared and his breathing fast and heavy. Michael almost yelled at him to get on with it, to get it over with. Waiting for something awful to happen was almost worse than it actually happening.

Michael _yelled_ when the tip of his pinky was snapped, and the table and chains clanged as he reflexively tried to move away. It _hurt_, just that tiny break, and Michael made a sound in the back of his throat, trying to swallow it down. Most of all, he was trying to keep in the forefront of his mind that headbutting an android was only going to hurt him, not the android.

“_God, fuck you_,” Michael laughed again, his arms twisting as he tried to get away. And this time, when the next knuckle was snapped, the pain was so sharp it made him _scream_. The cuffs cut into his wrists as he tried to pull away, and the sensation of being _trapped_ made Michael abruptly louder.

He lasted until the third knuckle, _hysterical_ as he felt those smooth fingers press down the pinky knuckle that connected to his hand.

“Come on you motherfucker, come on, _come on--” _and when that one was dislocated, the pain was so sharp it made his vision white for half a second. Michael _screamed_, and it was followed by a muffled groan, that was followed by another scream. This pain didn’t ebb like the others did, and Michael twisted in his seat to try and get away from it. He yelled at RK900 not to touch him, promised threats and threw slurs.

Michael gallantly lasted until the sixth knuckle, where every breath was a keen or a scream, before he spoke.

“Twenty-six!” Michael screamed in _agony_, “We’ve taken twenty-six so far. We dump them at the CyberLife junkyard with the rest when we’re done with them,” he moaned, trying to make a fist with his broken hand to snap the knuckles back into place, and only managing to do one with a scream of effort.

* * *

Michael was holding out a lot longer than he’d thought he would. He’d thought he would break by the time the third knuckle was broken. He was surprised it took six. RK900 was unphased by the screams, threats, and slurs. None of it affected him. Michael couldn’t do anything. He was in no position to make threats, and the slurs didn’t bother him. Gavin had thrown them around since they’d met, and not a single one ever really got to him.

RK900 relented when he finally got an answer, letting go of his hand, if only to give him some semblance of safety. He was far from it, especially if he kept withholding information, but for the moment, he wasn’t going to break any more fingers, as long as the information kept coming.

“Twenty-six, dumped in the CyberLife junkyard? Give me model numbers,” he demanded. Twenty-six was a lot more than just thirteen. That meant another thirteen androids had been taken and no one thought to report them missing, or maybe they’d been taken during or before the revolution… “When did you start taking androids? When did all of this start?”

How long had it been going on for? If they’d taken twenty-six, and half of them hadn’t been reported missing since the revolution, the others were either taken during or before the revolution, or they didn’t have someone to miss them when they disappeared. That was the only way they could have slipped through the cracks. And if Michael didn’t give him a list to check with those reported missing, he’d force it out of him by slowly relocating each knuckle he’d just dislocated, and repeating the process again until he got the answers he wanted.

* * *

“I don’t know their fucking model numbers!” Michael yelled, lashing out in pain. “The gardeners! Some whores. A couple looked like that faggot Markus is with. I don’t know! Whatever we could find,” He said, his voice broken.

He’d only ever had a broken finger, not a dislocated one. It felt like the pain of a break stretched out continuously. Michael’s hands shook as he pressed the heel of his other hand to his fingers, and abruptly pressed in with a sickening crack of bone. There was a one-second delay, and then Michael let out a sobbing scream of pain, which morphed into an angry hissing moan.

“That first night, with all the protests. They were just… walking around Detroit. Did it to get parts,” Michael said, rocking backward and forwards to try and lessen the pain he was in. “That’s all I know. That’s it,” He lied.

* * *

It was a little harder to pick out lies accurately when someone was under duress. It was fairly safe to assume he was telling the truth about the androids taken, though. WB200s, WR600s, WR400s, HR400s, and PL600s were the ones they would have to keep an eye out for. He would take the time to look over all the missing cases and scour the junkyard after the interrogation. For now, they needed more information.

RK900 watched as Michael tried to pop his knuckles back into place, and it seemed he did succeed with at least a few. Too bad for Michael, they weren’t going to stay that way for long. When he spoke again, the first part was true, but he was lying about not knowing anything else. He picked it up easily enough, despite the accelerated heart rate. He reached back down, this time taking a finger he hadn’t touched yet.

“Lying will not help your case, Michael. Don’t lie to me,” he warned, preparing to pop the third knuckle if he lied again. “Have you drained all twenty-six of the androids you’ve kidnapped? Did you synthesize the new strain of Red Ice yourself?”

* * *

Michael’s pulse kicked up, and he began swearing very rapidly under his breath. This android could read him like a book and he didn’t understand _how_. By his expression, was the obvious answer, and so he leant his face forwards, burying it in his arms.

“Yeah, all twenty-six, far as I know,” Michael keened.

If he said he was the one tho synthesised it, he’d be adding decades to his sentence. But if he ratted out who _was_ synthesising it, and she found out he’d ratted, he’d be eaten alive.

“I didn’t. I dunno who does it I just sell the blue blood and get the packets. I dunno man,” Michael moaned into his arms, pulling away from RK900 as much as he could. “I promise that’s all I know, come on man…”

* * *

RK900 wasn’t so sure he believed that _all_ of them had been drained so far. That was a _lot_ of Thirium 310 to be storing somewhere. He didn’t know how much of the Red Ice had been sold or used so far, but he doubted they’d made enough to warrant draining _twenty-six_ androids. There was no way they’d already used nearly thirty gallons of Thirium 310.

He also didn’t believe that Michael didn’t know who made it. Seeing him now, it was evident enough that he wasn’t the scientist behind it, he couldn’t be responsible for it, but someone was and the chances of Michael knowing exactly who was very high.

RK900 reached out with the hand not gripping his fingers and took a fistful of Michael’s hair, yanking his head back so he could see him. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled, leaning in close. “I _know_ you know who’s responsible. I don’t know how much you know about androids, Michael, but you know enough to take them apart. You know which biocomponents are important, which ones aren’t. You know the value of each piece. You know how to connect tubes to their veins without letting a drop of Thirium 310 escape. You know precisely where the memory chip in their skull is, enough to fire a bullet through it. With _all_ of that knowledge, surely you know enough about androids to know that even a basic model can pick up on body language, behavior, and stress levels. I am a highly advanced prototype specifically designed to hunt down my targets, as well as apprehend _or_ eliminate them. I can sense even the slightest uptick in your heart rate. I can sense when your breathing stalls for a fraction of a second. You _cannot_ lie to me.”

* * *

Gavin watched as RK900 took a handful of Michael Dent’s hair and yanked back so hard, and so rough, that it made the man yell. Pulled taught against the grip he was strung in and his dislocated hands tied to the table, there was no moving out of RK900’s way, no getting away from him. He had to sit there with his head yanked back and answer RK900’s questions.

And Gavin couldn’t help the quiet groan that left him as he rocked forward in his chair.

God, this was… this was fucked up.

This wasn’t the kind of shit Gavin should be into. He knew that. He knew it was fucked up that watching his partner yell in someone’s ear and then make them scream when they didn’t obey _should not have gone straight to his cock_, but it did. Holy hell it did.

His mouth was dry again, and Gavin rubbed a hand over his face as RK900 drilled Dent with a voice he wanted pressed against his ear. He was so hard it was a bit painful, and he couldn’t focus on the scene. Not even slightly.

“Alex Searn!” Michael yelled, in a tone that begged a little, and Gavin’s mind wandered as he started spilling more information. He thought about wanting a hand in his hair, just like that. He thought about getting cuffed to a table, or a post, or anything, really, he wasn’t fussed. And getting fucked so hard he screamed _just like that_. And Jesus, he wanted that voice in his ear while it happened, he wanted to hear all the different ways he could get taken apart and put back together again.

God, it’d been so long since _anyone_ had fucked him, good and deep and thorough. Covered in bruises with an ache that lasted days.

Gavin’s head tilted back as Michael screamed again, and he pulled his phone out, shaking a little as he did it.

**TO:** RK900 // #313 248 317 - 87

**FROM:** Det. Gavin Reed

**MESSAGE:**

> _Stepping out a sec. Keep going. Wait by my desk if I'm not back when you’re done._

Gavin made a beeline to the exit, and from there, walked directly to the 7/11 close by. He bought a pack of smokes and a pack of matches, and then went to find a cold corner to sit on. Gavin found one in an alley behind the 7/11, and eased himself onto a milk crate. He couldn’t be doing this. Not on a case like this. Gavin opened the cigarettes and the matches and tried to ignore how demanding his hard-on was, his hands trembling a little as he took a very long, very _deep_ inhale. God, what was he, 21? He hadn’t been this stupidly horny since he was a kid. This wasn’t the time to start fucking up cases. And this wasn’t the time to decide he didn’t mind the idea of getting fucked by robots after all.

Because it wasn’t the concept he was looking at. It was those broad shoulders, and that voice, and the strength and control in those hands.

“Fuck…” Gavin groaned a little miserably. And he couldn’t even blame this one on Elijah. It was all him.

* * *

RK900 ran the name “Alex Searn” through all available databases. None came up _in_ Detroit, but there were a few in the surrounding states. It was a lead they would have to follow and hope it turned into something, but he was finished with Michael. He received Gavin’s message and gave a glance towards the glass to at least let Gavin know he got it, not bothering to send an actual response.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he said, releasing his hair. He took Michael’s hand again and promptly popped each dislocated joint back into place before closing the folder and picking it up. He left the interrogation room and headed over to Gavin’s desk to drop off the folder.

“The suspect in room one can be taken back to holding,” he told one of the officers, who gave a nod and disappeared back towards the interrogation room. He considered staying at the desk like he was told, but leaving so suddenly and in the middle of an interrogation was concerning. It didn’t seem like something Gavin would do. So instead, he pulled on his jacket to somewhat shield himself from the cold, and left the precinct. He was able to track Gavin’s phone to an alleyway beside a 7/11. It wasn’t a very far walk, and he was able to locate him soon enough.

“Is everything alright, detective?” he asked as he approached, looking him over. It was dark, but he was able to see clearly enough thanks to his enhanced sight. Gavin _appeared_ okay. A little wound tight, uncomfortable, but okay. “You left in the middle of an interrogation. It doesn’t seem like something you would do.”

He noted Gavin was smoking again, something he’d hoped Gavin was doing well with. Apparently not. Gavin had managed a few days. RK900 had noticed he’d been experiencing withdrawal over the last two days, but as far as he’d been able to tell, Gavin hadn’t smoked since the day they met. It was disappointing, really.

Reaching out, he plucked the cigarette from Gavin’s fingers, dropping it to the floor to stomp it out. “That is a very unhealthy habit, detective. I thought you were trying to quit?” he asked, though it wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. Gavin was acting strange, and he wanted to know what was going on.

* * *

Gavin _flinched_, and almost toppled sideways off his milk crate when RK900 appeared from _nowhere_. Panicking, Gavin got to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets, acutely aware that RK900 was built to notice everything. Raised pulses. The way eyes dilated when people were horny. He’d probably notice his pants, too, if he put the rest together. It was _humiliating_, and Gavin wanted to sink into the asphalt. Just melt away from this, pretend it wasn’t happening.

“I thought I told you to stay at my desk until I got back,” Gavin bitched, struggling to keep his voice from turning _weak_. Or worse, needy. It was an octave or two deeper than usual, with a little bit of a gravel making it rough. Gavin heard himself and wished someone would just take mercy on him and snipe him from a rooftop. “I needed some air. Everything’s fine.”

For one utterly bizarre moment, Gavin thought RK900 was trying to hold his hand. But then the cigarette was snatched and stomped on, and Gavin was lectured about the health risks of cigarettes.

“Thanks captain _fucking obvious_. Fuck you,” Gavin snapped, stepping away from him as he pulled out the carton with hands that were still shaking. He tapped one out and lit it up, pacing away from RK900 so he couldn’t snatch that one as well.

Gavin felt like shit. He was so horny his brain had stopped working. He was angry that RK900 hadn’t done what he’d asked, angry that the smoke had been snatched, humiliated that he’d been caught like this, and nervous that RK900 would read all of it, see all of him, and know exactly what happened. He was touch starved and god, _just so fucking lonely_, and he wanted RK900 to fuck him so hard he saw stars. He was ashamed. _Shame_ ate him up the most. He didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Can I enjoy one fucking cigarette in peace? Fuck off, yeah? I’ll meet you in the precinct. Leave me alone, ‘900. _Fuck off._ Let me smoke.”

* * *

Something was wrong. Gavin seemed so on edge. The accelerated heart rate couldn’t be explained away by Gavin just being startled. It was there before he even knew he was no longer alone. His dilated pupils _could_ just be from the darkness. He did notice the tightness in the groin area of Gavin’s pants, how there was a slight bulge. A simple internet search gave him the answers he was seeking, but he didn’t understand _why_. What happened to result in this?

“You did, but I was concerned,” RK900 replied as if it was obvious. It seemed like this was likely going to become a trend. Gavin giving an order, doing something concerning, and RK900 disobeying to help however he could. He was curious, and Gavin was acting strange. He wanted to know what was going on and why he left in the middle of the interrogation. Clearly it was because he was aroused by something, but he couldn’t wrap his head around why, or what could have done it.

Despite Gavin’s reassurance that everything was fine, it was clear enough that it _wasn’t_. RK900 was more than capable of realizing Gavin _wasn’t_ a suspect he needed to interrogate, but the urge was there. Something was wrong and he needed answers, to ease his own mind.

“Everything’s not fine, detective,” he said, watching as Gavin lit up another cigarette. Gavin’s hands were shaking. It was so clear he was badly affected by _something_, and he didn’t seem willing to talk. It seemed he just wanted to be alone to smoke, but RK900 wasn’t about to let him throw away what little progress he’d made towards quitting.

He followed after him, grabbing his wrist to snatch away the second cigarette. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. You’re acting strange. I may not know you well, but I’ve learned quite a bit in the last three days, and you leaving in the middle of a job isn’t like you. Tell me what’s wrong,” he demanded, still holding onto his wrist to prevent him from just walking away again.

* * *

Gavin stumbled back a step when RK900 walked after him. He’d been trying not to yell at him, get properly angry at him, since he’d shown up. Rk900 had saved his ass today, he could have been shot in the head, and he deserved a bit of decency for that.

But Gavin prickled anyway, his shoulders raising, his expression darkening. And when his wrist was grabbed, his cigarette snatched a second time, and he was bailed up by that same voice he’d just finished imagining saying wicked, dirty things to him… it wasn’t just his hands that shook. Gavin seized up, trembling head to foot.

The longer Gavin stood there, pulling on RK900’s wrist, the more height he lost on him. He hunched, staring up at him. Gavin yanked at the wrist, and when RK900’s grip didn’t ease, Gavin changed tactics in an _instant_.

He reached up, and seized a handful each of RK900’s jacket right at the collar. With a _shove_, Gavin walked him backwards with a pace that was quick and angry, and _slammed_ RK900 up against the brick wall of the alley.

_Back off_, _leave him alone, get the fuck out of his business. He didn’t have to tell him shit, he didn’t have to say anything, they weren’t friends, he didn’t owe RK900 a thing_. They were all words that came to mind.

But instead of saying any of them, Gavin slipped a hand behind RK900’s head and pulled him down as he leant up, and kissed him hard. He’d never kissed an android before, just on principle _alone_. But he hadn’t expected it to feel like kissing a human. He hadn’t expected his lips to be warm, and soft, and _nice_.

Gavin’s hand curled at the back of RK900’s head, shifting through his hair. He hadn’t expected that to be soft, either. He hadn’t expected to be doing this, and Gavin sucked RK900’s lip into his mouth and bit down, dragging his teeth over it, trying to get him to kiss back.

* * *

RK900 had no intentions of letting go of Gavin’s wrist until he got him talking, regardless of how hard the human tried to pull away. It almost looked like Gavin was going to vibrate out of his skin. The fact that Gavin hadn’t exploded on him yet was a miracle, and really, even RK900 was surprised.

But what surprised him more was when Gavin grabbed his jacket and marched him backwards, his LED going red. The collision with the wall hurt a little, but the pain faded just as quickly as it had come. He was absolutely expecting Gavin to yell at him. He was expecting all the profanities in the world to be shouted at him, but Gavin didn’t say a word. The look on RK900’s face could only be described as absolute confusion as Gavin’s hand slid behind his head. He let out a muffled sound of surprise when he was pulled into a rough kiss, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. He knew what was going on, he knew it was a kiss, but he still didn’t understand why, or why him. Was it just because he was there?

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to put his hands or what to do with his mouth. He considered mimicking Gavin would work well enough, but he _did_ have another option. His eyes slipped closed and his LED flickered as he downloaded the HR400 software, learning everything he might possibly need to know if another situation like this occurred in the future.

His hands moved to rest on Gavin’s hips, pulling him closer. He tilted his head just slightly to make the position more comfortable, finally returning Gavin’s kiss. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, one of his hands coming up to curl around the back of Gavin’s head. It felt _good_. There was a lot in the software, so much knowledge. He’d never considered downloading anything like it before. It didn’t seem important. Anything he might have needed for a case could have just been researched through the internet, but this was different. It was almost as if downloading the software gave him experience, without having to _actually_ experience anything. It was convenient, he figured, because he had no idea what he was doing or how to do it until that point. But even with the experience that the download brought, knowing how to do something was still easier than actually being able to do it. He was a little unsure about his movements, though it was likely to go unnoticed.

* * *

Gavin completely missed the download. All he noticed was the way RK900 suddenly came to life under him, and the surge of excitement Gavin felt when he did. And really, he should have known something had happened when RK900 kissed him like he’d been practicing for years. All he could do was groan into it, and revel in the feel of being pulled closer, and of a hand curled around the back of his head.

It’s wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t tender, or loving. That wasn’t what Gavin was after. He was wound up and desperate, and just like at work and on cases, RK900 kept up with him. Gavin ground up against RK900, one arm looping around his shoulders to keep steady. Gavin moaned as he did it, his kiss turning hungry. _Wanting_.

Very vaguely, Gavin wondered _why_. Wasn’t RK900 built for police work? Wasn't Connor? How’d they know to kiss like this? Why did they know this?

Gavin kissed and bit and sucked down RK900’s neck as he caught his breath, not wanting to talk. But it was here, with the reactions he was getting, that he remembered Elijah’s code. Gavin’s gaze lifted as he sucked what should have been a hickey into the base of RK900’s neck, and watched how he reacted to it.

He then abruptly pulled away, and wiped his nose, stumbling a few feet back from him. Because if he kept going, he wouldn’t stop. If he kept going he was going to rub his hard-on against RK900’s thigh until he’d come in his pants. And Gavin had at least a scrap of dignity.

“Now if it’s alright with you,” Gavin growled, unable to stop touching his face, his lips, his nose, “I’d like to smoke as many fucking cigarettes as it takes until I stop thinking about your tongue in my ass and your hand around my cock and how I haven’t been _fucked_ in fifty years, and get back to work,” Gavin said with a voice that shook as badly as his hands.

* * *

RK900 wasn’t in any hurry. He didn’t feel the same urgency that Gavin seemed to, not yet. He wasn’t needy or desperate, but Gavin was and despite not knowing why, he didn’t feel the need to make him stop. He simply returned his kiss and let Gavin take what he wanted, keeping a hand on Gavin’s hip to help steady him. He was perfectly content the way things were, until Gavin moaned against his lips. He couldn’t even describe how that felt, something shifting inside him without even understanding why. It seemed he didn’t understand much, especially when it came to Gavin.

When Gavin broke the kiss, RK900’s head fell back against the brick wall. Despite not needing to breathe, he was breathless. The hand at the back of Gavin’s head curled into his hair, his eyes closing again as Gavin mouthed at his neck. It felt so good and suddenly, he was starting to think maybe he did understand Gavin’s desperation. His body shuddered as Gavin sucked at the base of his neck, his grip on his hip tightening just a bit.

But suddenly, it all stopped. He opened his eyes to watch Gavin stumble back, noticeably putting distance between them. He didn’t _want_ him to stop. He didn’t want to stop. He was tempted to push Gavin against the wall and _take_ what he wanted, relieve the tension that had built up inside him, but he didn’t. He let out a few calming breaths, trying to soothe himself, force himself to relax. But it didn’t work. Gavin’s words definitely didn’t help.

“Yes, detective,” he finally said when he managed to find his voice, his voice slightly deeper than usual. He didn’t say anything else and instead started heading back towards the precinct, straightening out his clothes and hair along the way. He went inside when he arrived, immediately looking for Connor.

_Connor, do you have a moment?_

He needed someone to talk to. He needed someone that understood what was going on, so _he_ could understand what was going on, and what had just happened. He _knew_ what had just happened, but even then, he was having a hard time processing it, his LED still blaring red.

* * *

Connor had been about to walk out, his day with Hank having wrapped up. Hank was hungry and tired, and grumpy because of it, and Connor was in no mood to upset him. His LED flickered blue in the lift to the basement, and at the sound of RK900’s voice in his head, Connor’s expression pinched. It was subtle, but he sounded ever so slightly _off_. And RK900 wasn’t one for sending messages. This was important.

“I’ll catch you up later, Hank. I need to check something,” Connor said the same time he sent a message back.

_Yes. Stay where you are. I’m in the basement._

It didn’t take Connor long to get back up to the bullpen, and the _second_ he saw RK900, Connor knew something had happened, and that it involved Detective Reed. RK900’s LED was blaring red, and when Connor reached him, he needlessly touched the side of RK900’s jaw, tilting his face to look at it. It didn’t make sense. The last Connor had heard, Detective Reed was making headway on an important case with a _lot_ of success. He didn’t understand.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, his expression pinched. “What happened to you?”

* * *

He felt restless, like he wasn’t able to just stand still and wait patiently for Connor. He felt hot, almost as if he was overheating although every single systems check he ran came back clear. He’d felt hot outside too, despite the frigid air on his skin. He didn’t understand what was going on. He recognized his own behavior mirrored Gavin’s from back in the alleyway. Tense, restless, wound too tight. But he didn’t know what to do about it. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to make it stop. But Connor might.

So, RK900 waited by Gavin’s desk, willing himself to stay stationary, at least putting on the semblance of being composed, though he was far from it. And when Connor came into view and started making his way over, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, only getting more restless.

Connor looked concerned, and he wanted to assure him that Gavin hadn’t hurt him, that it wasn’t anything _bad_, but words just didn’t come. So instead, he held his hand out to Connor, the synthetic skin receding to allow for a connection. He figured showing him would be easier than telling him. He didn’t think he could even explain how he was feeling, or what happened. He didn’t understand any of it enough to be able to properly explain all of it.

He planned on showing him everything. Gavin had been acting strange for a while leading up to the moment in the alleyway, and he made sure to show Connor each and every event, as well as everything that had happened in the alleyway, allowing him to feel what he felt, hoping that he could give him some sort of explanation to help him understand.

* * *

When Connor accepted the connection, he’d expected the worst. Gavin’s android hostility was notorious, and it never took much to trigger him, or get him riled up, even if he were in a good mood just moments before. He thought of androids as machines who should obey, and had no interest in connecting socially with them.

Or so he’d thought.

Surprise filtered uncensored through the bond as Connor absorbed RK900’s memories. He watched their confrontation in the warehouse parking lot, the way he looked at RK900 after the arrest. There was a flicker of amusement as he watched the way Detective Reed looked at RK900 after an interrogation, because _that_ was familiar at least.

But when RK900 shared his memories of the alley, and how he was _feeling_, Connor almost jerked away. It felt inappropriate to share this feeling with him. This was a feeling he shared with Elijah, and Elijah _alone_. Connor’s LED flickered between red and yellow as he absorbed it, and he watched through RK900’s eyes the memory of Gavin standing shamefully aroused, of being shoved and kissed, of RK900 downloading the HR400 software--

Connor broke away with a thinly drawn but deep inhale. His LED flickered red, matching RK900’s, and he had to take a moment to compose himself, and gather his thoughts. Connor opened his mouth to speak, and then paused, thinking better of it. There was nobody here, but this wasn’t the sort of conversation he wanted to risk being overheard.

_Detective Reed is sexually attracted to you. Specifically, he is attracted to any show of strength, authority, or domination. This attraction goes against his usual viewpoint of disliking androids, therefore, I suspect he may feel shame about his feelings towards you. This may be why he behaved the way he did before kissing you in the alley._

As he spoke, Connor began to analyse RK900. The amount of dried thirium on his jacket was concerning, and Connor idly searched for nearby dry cleaners as he continued.

_You are sexually stimulated // turned on // horny // aroused. An orgasm will fix this quickly. It may also fade on its own, however I find it takes a very long time to leave the system completely. It once lasted two weeks for me. _

“Are you okay, RK900?” Connor asked aloud, almost cutting over himself. “The way Detective Reed kissed you was inappropriate. You are allowed to dislike the action even if you enjoyed the process.”

* * *

While Connor watched the memories he needed to show him, RK900 searched through Connor’s, looking for any and all interactions with Gavin to see if maybe he’d treated Connor similarly, or if this behavior was something directed at him exclusively. He saw how Gavin treated Connor initially, how hostile he was, making threats. That was familiar enough, but it wasn’t quite what he was looking for. Gavin attacking Connor in the evidence archives really shouldn’t have surprised him. Gavin had been hostile towards him, but he’d yet to actually pull a gun on him. Connor hadn’t even done anything to deserve that.

Then he saw Gavin interacting with Connor and Elijah Kamski. He saw the way Gavin was behaving, how he reacted to seeing Connor dressed differently, how he reacted to the things Connor had said. _Did_ Gavin want him to say things like Connor had? He _could_. Their interactions had become easier throughout the day, and RK900 had grown more comfortable talking with him, despite nothing truly personal being shared since the argument earlier outside of the warehouse.

When Connor abruptly jerked his hand away, RK900’s expression pinched as the connection was severed unexpectedly. He watched Connor, waiting somehow both patiently and impatiently at the same time. He still felt so restless, like he had to do something, but he didn’t know _what_. He just wanted the feeling to stop. He wanted the discomfort to go away, the tightness to ease up.

He focused in on Connor when he heard his voice come through telepathically. Gavin was sexually attracted to him? And to shows of strength, authority, and domination? He wasn’t really sure what to do with that information. It did explain quite a bit though. It explained why Gavin’s eyes lingered on him from time to time, why he reacted the way he did to certain things RK900 did or said. It explained why he left the observation room in the middle of an interrogation. It made so much more sense. But what didn’t make sense was _why him_? If Gavin felt so strongly about androids, why was he sexually attracted to one? Was he sexually attracted to Connor too? They had the same face, only very subtle differences that were likely to go unnoticed. The only really noticeable differences between the two were their eyes and their heights. But no, Gavin wasn’t sexually attracted to Connor. Nothing RK900 had found in Connor’s memories implied that Gavin was, and now that he knew what to look for, he was positive that Gavin _only_ felt this way towards him. That was something he still didn’t understand.

Learning that _he_ was sexually stimulated and that it could either fade on its own or stick around for a while was unfortunate. He didn’t know how to accomplish an orgasm on his own, not without an HR400 part. He would have to find a way to deal with it, learn to work around it until the feeling faded. He wasn’t happy to hear that Connor had a similar experience, and it lasted _two_ weeks. He didn’t want it to interfere with his work, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about it.

RK900 sighed at Connor’s question, thinking for a moment before finally speaking. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He didn’t know if he was okay. He didn’t know if he really disliked the kiss or not. He didn’t think he disliked it. He disliked the restless, uneasy tension he felt, but did he dislike the kiss itself? No. Not really. It had been a surprise, but it wasn’t particularly welcome or unwelcome. He supposed he was neutral? He didn’t know how he felt.

“Thank you for helping me understand, Connor.” There was still a decent bit he didn’t totally understand, but he felt better knowing at least some things. He decided that, once Gavin left for the night, he was going to go to the store to buy some warmer clothes, then go to the junkyard to see what he could find. He needed to see if he could find any recently dumped androids to give some credibility to Michael’s claims. Maybe it would help take his mind off of how he was feeling.

* * *

A pang of pity shot through Connor as he watched Rk900 grapple with what had happened. He didn’t seem adverse, just… confused. Or perhaps he liked it, and simply didn’t understand why. Whatever the reason, Connor couldn’t help but be quietly angry with Reed about it. He shouldn’t have kissed him the way he did, it should have been mutual, or at least questioning.

Regardless, it had RK900 tied up with tension.

“Can I share an intimate experience of mine, RK900?” Connor asked, holding out his hand to interface. “I had a similar reaction from Elijah, regarding interrogations.”

Connor smiled when he was given RK900’s hand, and connected with the memory of himself sitting behind Elijah. He showed how he broke him down with nothing but his words and a hand in his hair, how he’d been a little rough to superb results.

_You have two choices concerning how you continue with Detective Reed. You can choose to ignore what happened in the alley, or you can choose to pursue it. _

Connor brought up the memory of Gavin in his and Elijah’s kitchen again, once again showing him how his words had successfully shut Gavin down.

_Gavin Reed responds best when met with a challenge. He will shut down and back off if you create a scenario he cannot overcome. Whatever you decide, be firm and direct. _

Restless now himself, Connor let go with a sigh and shifted his weight. He missed Elijah. He’d promised to spend the evening playing cards with Hank, and he still very much wanted to. But he also wanted to drive the hour to Elijah’s and crawl into bed with him.

“My apartment is a four-minute walk, if we’re brisk. Would you like to borrow a change of clothes until yours have finished dry cleaning? You’re covered in Thirium.”

* * *

Connor’s proposal had taken him by surprise, but RK900 agreed, giving him his hand again. The memory he was shown had been quite helpful and left him wondering if he’d get a similar result from Gavin, if he tried. He was pretty positive he would. But did he _want_ to? Did he want to try? He wasn’t sure he could properly answer that question for himself while he was still feeling the way he was. He would have to make the choice to either pursue it or ignore it once he had a clearer head.

He let his hand drop back to his side once Connor let go, giving him a nod in understanding. Firm and direct. He could manage that. It was exactly like how he behaved in the interrogation room. Firm, direct, demanding, authoritative. If he could make it through an interrogation as easily as he did, dealing with Gavin Reed shouldn’t be too difficult, now that he understood him a little better.

At the mention of his jacket, he looked down, remembering that yes, there had been thirium staining his jacket. He just hadn’t paid it any mind up until Connor mentioned it. “No, thank you. I was planning on stopping by a store to buy warmer clothing before I left to follow a lead. I appreciate the offer. And I appreciate the help and advice. Thank you.”

All he really had to do now was try to keep himself composed until Gavin returned, whenever that was going to be. As soon as Gavin came back and clocked out, he could go off on his own to buy himself some clothes and investigate the junkyard. He needed to do something to distract himself and make him stop thinking about what had happened. But his mind kept going back to it, and to the memories Connor had shown him. It was tempting, to go track Gavin down again and continue where they’d left off before Gavin pulled himself away, but RK900 was unsure it would be wise. Either Gavin would be angry with him and turn hostile again, or he would agree. And he wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Gavin agreed.

_ **To be Continued** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just gotta say, we were writing this well before we found Detroit: Awakening (an amazing fanfilm by Octopunk Media, look it up on YouTube!). We felt like we should throw in that disclaimer because there is a point in this chapter that was inspired by a scene in the DA, and it did unintentionally get very similar. Just wanted to say that we didn't mean for it to get so similar. xD 
> 
> As we're learning bits and pieces about Detroit: Evolution, we found that we may have more ideas in common with Michelle too, though hopefully these don't turn out to be quite as similar as what happened in this chapter. xD Michelle, if you're reading this, you're amazing, DA's amazing (and we're sure DE will be too!), and apparently great minds think alike?  
  
⭕ ⭕ ⭕
> 
> And that is the end of Part One of the Mutual Trust series! I'll start posting Part Two very soon!


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